When It's Family
by quiet-heart
Summary: Meet Madigan. She's a streetwise, smartass kid who loves climbing. Six years ago, she left New York and now she's back. She's also Flack's baby sister. Chapter 40 up for review. Story completed.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Just how much do we really know about Detective Donald Flack Jr.? Does he have any siblings? Well, I decided to try and answer that question. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet Madigan Flack. R and R so I know it's worth continuing!_

**Chapter 1**

When Detective Mac Taylor came in to the precinct, it was late at night and he was tired and looking forward to finishing his work so he could get out of there. Doctor Peyton Driscoll, the medical examiner he was seeing these days, had offered to make dinner for him and he'd accepted. In the reception area, he spotted what looked like a young male fast asleep on his side on the visitor's bench.

"Who's that?" Mac asked the officer on duty at the desk.

"I don't know, but he's been there for the last couple of hours. Finally fell asleep about an hour ago. The last officer on duty says he's been waiting for Detective Flack but wouldn't give a name, just said the detective knew him," the officer replied, shrugging.

Mac nodded. "Guess I'd better wake him; Flack was right behind me."

He went over to the sleeper, set down his crime scene gear, and gently put a hand on his shoulder, noting that _he_ was more of a _she_, based on the facial characters. She just happened to have very short, dark brown hair and wearing a large, over-sized jacket, jeans, and boots. That was the last thing he clearly remembered. The next thing he knew, he found himself flat on his back, the female clearly awake with his dress shirt in her fist, kneeling over him, and her other fist drawn back to hit him. The look on her face was a mixture of rage and desperation. Before she could hit him, Flack appeared behind her and grabbed her wrist, wrapping his other arm around her neck and lifting her off her feet and away from him.

"Oh no you don't!" Flack yelled, struggling to restrain his captive as she fought.

She cried out, struggling, and Mac noted her yelling seemed to be more of one of pain and fear than one of rage. She also seemed to be trying to arch _away_ from Flack. Suddenly she sighed and went limp as she slid into unconsciousness.

"What the hell?" Flack asked as he lowered his limp captive to the floor and Mac got off the floor, Stella helping him. She had arrived just seconds after Flack. "Somebody call an ambulance!" Then his eyes went wide as he saw the face of the woman, who was clearly in her early to mid twenties. "_Oh my god_," he breathed, tenderly touching her face, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Is Sheldon still around?" he asked, quickly checking her vitals; there was a steady heartbeat and regular breathing, indicating she was reasonably okay. Stella nodded, getting out her cell phone to call the former-M.E.-turned-CSI who also happened to be a doctor. He turned his attention back to the woman in his arms. "Oh Maddy, where've you been, kiddo?" he asked her softly, worry etched on his face as he gently brushed her hair away from her face.

"Flack, do you know her?" Mac asked, concerned.

Flack looked up at him and confessed, "This Madigan, my baby sister. I haven't seen her in almost six years."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Stella said, joining them.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," Flack quipped. He spotted something on her left wrist and lifted her hand up. It was a silver men's watch with the NYPD logo on the watch face. It looked worn but cared for. "Stella, could you check the back of that watch for me? If that's what I think it is, there should be something engraved on it."

Stella did as asked, putting gloves on, carefully removing the watch, and turning it over. "Donald, congratulations on graduating from the police academy," she read aloud. "There's a date here, dated about ten years ago."

Flack smiled and looked down at the still unconscious Madigan. "You didn't pawn that thing after all, did you, Maddy?" he asked her softly, just as Sheldon Hawkes came up to them, First Aid kit in hand and concern on his face.

"What happened?" Sheldon asked, snapping on gloves and quickly checking Madigan's vitals.

"I don't know. I saw her attack Mac and was about to take a punch at him when I grabbed her," Flack said. "She started screaming like she was in pain and then she went out."

Sheldon nodded and said, "She appears to be okay, just unconscious."

"I noticed she seemed to be trying to arch away from him. Could she possibly have an injury on her back?" Mac asked.

"It's possible. Help me get this jacket off her so we can have a look. Has anyone called an ambulance?" Sheldon asked.

"They're on their way," the on-duty desk officer said, joining them.

Mac, Flack, and Sheldon carefully sat Madigan up and removed her jacket. "_That_ is not a good sign," Sheldon said as they stared at the blood that was seeping through the back of her t-shirt. "We need to cut this off. Let's get her into the recovery position."

They got Madigan on her back in the recovery position just as the paramedics arrived. Stella went to get them as Sheldon began carefully cutting away Madigan's bloodstained shirt.

"Oh _jeez-us_," Flack swore when he saw the bleeding slashes on Madigan's back.

Mac quickly grabbed the camera from his crime scene gear and snapped a few photographs as evidence, just in case they were needed.

Sheldon nodded at the two paramedics who had arrived, gear in hand, and said, "We've got an unconscious female here. From the looks of her back, I'd say she passed out from pain. Breathing and heart-rate is within acceptable parameters-"

"_Donny_," Madigan whispered hoarsely, her eyes fluttering as she slowly made her way back to consciousness. Flack had her hand in his in an instant and was crouched down to her level in a flash.

"Hey Maddy. Where you been?" he asked gently.

"Little sister grew up, Donny. Walk-away Joe," she whispered, a tear slowly making her way down her face as she tried to squeeze his hand.

He smiled and said, "Bible and a bus ticket home."

She tried to smile back but she was fading back into unconsciousness quickly. "I'm sorry, so very sorry," she whispered before her eyes rolled back into her head and her lids closed again.

"Sheldon!" Flack barked and the doctor quickly checked Madigan's vitals again.

"She's okay, just out again. We really need to get her to the hospital and get these injuries cleaned up. She's also showing signs of malnutrition, making me wonder when was the last time she ate properly. That isn't going to help her recovery," Sheldon said. "What's her name and age, any one know?"

"Her name is Madigan Sarah Flack, age twenty-four. She's my sister," Flack said, watching as the paramedics carefully loaded Madigan, face down, on to the stretcher and prepared her for transport.

"Then we're going to need her medical history, sir," one paramedic said.

"I can do that, up to about six years ago. After that, I don't know," Flack said, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "I just don't know."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wow! Thanks for the reviews. Since I already had Chapter 2 written, I decided to throw it here before going to work. Chapter 3 will be written tonight, as well as more chapters for my other stories, I promise._

**Chapter 2**

"When was the last time you saw your sister?" Mac asked Flack as they waited for the ER doctor to up-date them on Madigan's condition.

"About six years ago. She was eighteen and leaving town with her then-boyfriend, some guy whose name escapes me," Flack said. "I gave her my watch to pawn if she ever needed the money; I cared about her that much, even then, even though she was the black sheep of the family." He rubbed the face of the watch, wiping away a print on it absently as memories came to him. "I'm probably one of the few people in our family who actually got along with her. You see, Maddy was sort of an accident. I was eight when she was born."

"Ouch. Very big age gap," Mac commented.

"Very. But I adored her right from the moment I held her in my arms. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad were not prepared to handle another child, especially one like Maddy. The end result was that Mom and Dad, Dad especially, were very hard on her. They expected her to conform to this mold-image thing they had, to be perfect like me, at least in their eyes. Maddy tried, she tried damn hard, but after a while she gave up and started rebelling."

"Oh boy."

"Oh yeah. I was twenty-two when I graduated from the police academy and she was fourteen. I think the only thing that kept her on the straight and narrow was her fear of disappointing me once I was officially a cop. Some times it felt like I was the only one who could get through to her."

"Maybe because you were the only one she had any respect for or treated her with any respect," Mac suggested.

"I think that was a large part of it."

"Detective Flack?" said a doctor as she came into the waiting room. Both Flack and Mac stood up.

"I'm Detective Flack. How's my sister?" he asked.

"She needs proper nutrition and her back is going to need time to heal but she'll be okay," the doctor said. "She is asking for you, though."

Flack nodded and followed the doctor to a room with Mac. Madigan lay on the bed on her stomach, her back covered in gauze and medical tape. An IV went into one hand and a heart monitor beeped steadily. Mac stood off to one side to discreetly talk to the doctor as Flack sat beside the bed and gently took his sister's hand in his. She opened her eyes and pale blue eyes, identical to his, looked at him.

"Hey kiddo," he said, smiling.

"Hey big brother. Sorry it took me so long to come back, but I was in California when I got word about you and the bombing," Madigan said. "Took me a while to save up for a bus ticket."

"That's okay. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Who did I almost hit?"

"Detective Mac Taylor."

Madigan groaned. "Know if he's going to press charges?"

Flack looked at Mac who shook his head. He had concluded, after seeing Madigan's back, that her actions had been purely reflective. Besides, she hadn't actually hit him.

"No, I don't think he will," Flack said, answering Madigan's question.

"Thank God. I promise I'll apologize to him as soon as I can. I didn't mean to attack him; it was reflex," Madigan said.

"Because of your back?"

"Worse, because I was almost raped about six months ago. Bastard tried to jump me while I was asleep."

Flack's face went pale in horror and Mac cringed. That explained her reaction.

"But you're safe here and safe now. You're home again," Flack said.

"Mom and Dad told me if I left with Davey I would not be welcome back," Madigan reminded him sadly.

"They said that, not me. You are always welcome to come home with me. I work crazy hours these days but we'll work something out," Flack soothed. "I've missed you."

"I wanted to call you so many times but I lost your number and do you know how many D. Flack's there are in New York?" Madigan asked, tears beginning to slide down her face.

"I've got a pretty good idea, kiddo," Flack said soothingly. "What happened to your back?"

"My reward for trying to save a night lady from being beaten by her john," she replied wryly. "Hurts like a bitch and I don't know what he used."

"Can you identify him again?"

"Right, Donny. He was a trucker at a stop somewhere just outside of the city and I barely even remember his face," she replied.

"We could nail him," Flack said.

"Not worth the effort, trust me."

"You sure?" Madigan nodded. "Okay. You sleep and when the doctor releases you, I'll come and get you." She nodded and closed her eyes. Within moments, she was asleep.

"Welcome home, Maddy," Flack whispered, gently brushing her hair out of her face in brotherly affection.

Outside the room, Mac told the detective what the doctor had told him. "She said that there were no obvious signs of Madigan having ever used drugs of any kind, even alcohol. However, just to be sure, she's got the hospital labs running blood tests on Madigan."

"Better safe than sorry," Flack said, agreeing.

"Are you going to tell your parents that Madigan is home?" Mac asked.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to tell them and I think I may decide to hold off on telling them anything for a while."

"What did she mean when she said 'Walk-away Joe?'"

"She was referring to a song. Brother-sister speak. Sometimes when we wanted to say something without actually saying a lot, we would refer to songs. _Walk-Away Joe_ is a Trisha Yearwood song and the chorus goes '_That boy's just a walk-away Joe - Born to be a leaver, tell you from the word Go - Destined to deceive her, he's a wrong kind of paradise - She's gonna know it in a matter of time - That boy's just a walk-away Joe.' _I think she was referring to Davey."

"He left her."

"Sounds like it, especially if you hear the whole song."

"And when you said, 'Bible and a bus ticket home'?"

"Collin Raye, _Bible And A Bus Ticket Home._ Chorus goes '_One will get you where you're going – When you haven't got a prayer – And one will bring you back, son – If your dreams ain't waiting there. – You're out on your own now – We won't be there to fall back – But you know we're never farther – Than a Bible and a bus ticket home.'_ I was telling her that she was welcome to come home, no matter what."

Mac nodded. It made sense. "What are you going to do now that she's home?"

"Take care of her as best as I can and, between her and me, work something out. I just need to know how much she's changed. Six years is a long time and, as you and I both know, people change, especially when they've been on the road the way I suspect she has. Gonna take some adjustment, especially if Mom and Dad don't handle her return well. In the mean time, I'm just going to keep on doing the same thing I've always done with her."

"And that is?"

"Just love her."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Since I am Canadian, I can honestly pick on us Canucks just a wee bit there and know what the heck we're talking about._

**Chapter 3**

Brother and sister sat talking in the hospital. They were waiting for a doctor to come and release Madigan to Flack's care.

"Where'd you go?" Flack asked.

"Here, there." She shrugged. "After Davey left me, I kinda just bummed around the States for a while. Wound up in Canada once."

"Canada?"

"Mmm-hmm. Not quite sure how I got there but I got a toonie out of it. Kinda cool." She dug around a pocket of her jacket and pulled out a large silver coin with a gold center and a polar bear stamped on it.

"Any idea why they call it a toonie?" he asked as he studied the coin.

"'Cause their one dollar coin is called a loonie and before you ask, that's 'cause it's got a picture of a bird called a Loon on it."

"Makes sense, in a Canadian sort of way."

They chuckled.

"Did you ever stay in one place for very long?" he asked as he handed back the coin.

"Sure. I think I stayed in one place once for about six, seven months. I got in to the construction work and usually followed the work. It was good money. I also did some ranch work for a while, helping with cattle season. That was fun."

He nodded. "How long did Davey hang around?"

"Surprisingly enough, about eight months. Then one day he just… left."

"Any idea why?"

She bit her lip.

"Maddy? Sweetie, what happened?"

She ducked her head. "He left 'cause I got pregnant." A tear rolled down her face. Even after almost five years, the heartache was still there, but it wasn't because Davey had left her. No, the heartache was because of what had happened afterwards.

"Oh, Maddy." He drew her against him and hugged her tightly. "Where's the baby now?"

"With God. Davey was all excited about the baby at first but when I really started to show at four months, well, I woke up one morning and he was gone. No note, nothing. I lost-" she swallowed a knot in her throat. "I lost the baby about two weeks later. The nurse who had done the ultra-sound about a week before said he would have been a boy. I was gonna call him Donny."

"Oh, kiddo."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm just sorry you lost Donny the Third. I would have liked to have met him."

"You and me both, brother, you and me both."

The next day, Mac got a call that told him he had a visitor waiting for him in Reception. Sure enough, waiting for him was none other than Madigan Flack. If Mac hadn't already known Madigan was Donny Flack's sister, he would have seriously wondered. Brother and sister shared identical eye-color and similar facial features but Madigan had light highlights in her hair and a slimmer build. Also unlike Donny Flack, she didn't wear suits. Instead, she was wearing jeans, worn steel toe boots, a large leather and wool high school jacket that was three sizes too big on her, and a shirt. She also had a haunted look in her eyes that came from having seen too much at a young age.

"Madigan, what can I do for you?" Mac asked pleasantly.

"Actually, I came to apologize for attacking you earlier," Madigan said.

"There's nothing to apologize for, but if it makes you feel better, then I accept your apology," Mac said.

Madigan smiled with relief.

"That's some pretty fast reflexes you've got there," he commented.

"Used to fool-ass around with Donny a lot and then when he became a cop, he wanted to make sure I could take care of myself. Taught me every dirty trick in the book and what he didn't teach me, the streets did."

Mac nodded. "You going to be okay?"

"I'll live. I always do," she shrugged. "Donny says it was you who helped save his life after that wacko bomber blew the building you two were in."

Mac nodded. The whole thing still had the capacity to give him nightmares.

"Thank you for looking after him. I don't know what I would have done if he'd died."

"Luckily you don't have to find out."

"Yeah. Listen, Donny gave me this gym card membership thing. He said they got a really good wall there." She showed him a membership card for a local gym. "Any idea where it is?"

He told her and then asked, "You climb?"

"If it can be, you can bet I will be. Used to drive my parents nuts 'cause I was constantly climbing things, even trees, in a dress. The higher I could go, the happier I was. Even won a fancy climbing gear set in a contest at a sports store in Detroit once."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Made it to the top of a 100 foot indoor wall and was the only one of about a dozen contestants to do so. It was some kind of promotional thing."

"Wow. Then you must really know your stuff," Mac said, clearly impressed. "Don't you ever get scared?"

"Of course. Fear is what makes me double-check my gear every time."

"Good point."

"Anyway, thanks for the address location. If you see Big Brother before I do, tell him I said I'll catch him at home."

"Will do. And Madigan?"

"Maddy."

"Maddy. Nice meeting you."

"You too, sir."

"Mac," he corrected.

She nodded, smiled, and was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I felt so sorry for Madigan while writing this chapter, having been where she is. You get a very good-looking guy like Mac and you, as a young woman, find it damn hard to look at the guy square in the face without turning scarlet. And that's when he's fully dressed. Read on and review, which always makes me happy!_

**Chapter 4**

"You're kidding me," Flack said.

Madigan put her left hand over her heart, raised her right hand and said, "That's the Honky Tonk truth, cross my broken heart. I put my right hand here on this beer and swear on this bar."

He laughed. "How the heck did you manage that?"

"Wish I knew. I was climbing the wall and helping this little mouse of a lady while I was at it. Poor thing was absolutely terrified of heights."

Flack and Madigan were at Flack's desk at the NYPD. He was in his chair and she was sitting on his desk, swinging her heels absently. She had just gotten back from the local gym where, surprisingly enough, she'd gotten a job as a wall-climbing assistant instructor.

"So what was she doing up there in the first place?" Flack asked.

"Hubby and his whole 'conquer your fears, try something new' thing. I wanted to thwack the guy a good one but not my place. But I convinced the wife to look at the whole thing like a puzzle, which she loved. That helped." She shrugged. "When we finally got down, guy comes up to me and says the manager wants to talk to me. Next thing you know, I'm being offered a job."

"Wage good?"

"Very."

"For your sake, I'm happy for you."

"Have you – have you told Mom and Dad I'm back yet?"

"Not yet, no. And I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out how."

She smiled sadly. "Promise me one thing."

"If I can."

"Please don't try and get between me and them. I can understand how you'd want to help, but I've learned how to fight my own battles. If Mom and Dad have a problem with me, let them deal with me. I don't want to cause you any unnecessary trouble."

"Are you sure? Because I don't want to see you get hurt."

"If I get hurt, I'll live. I'll be civil to them and I won't start anything but I won't involve you. That's not fair to you."

"How about you let me worry about that?"

She gave him her "Yeah, right" look.

"Oh, great! Hey, Flack, can I borrow your sister for a moment?" Danny Messer asked as he bounded up to them.

"She's right here. Ask her yourself," Flack replied.

"Madigan, how much do you weigh?" Danny asked.

"It's Maddy, and last time I checked the scales, I was pushing one-thirty-five. I'm a little on the scrawny side," Madigan replied.

"Stand up, please," he said, studying her. She did as bid and he took a measuring tape and measured her height. "About five-foot-five," he muttered. "Perfect. You own a swimsuit?"

"I've been bouncing around the states for the last six years, Danny. Any swimming I did was with a shirt and shorts so the answer is No."

"We'll pick you up one on the way to the pool," Danny said, dragging her with him.

"Wait a minute," Madigan said, putting the brakes on. "What pool?"

"The pool where you're going to try and drown a six-foot man," Danny said.

"Who?" she asked suspiciously.

"Mac."

"Oh." Then, "_Are you out of your frackin' mind?_" she yelped.

"It would be fun," he wheedled. "And you'd get a new swimsuit out of it."

Flack was still at his desk but now he stood up and grabbed his coat. "This I gotta see," he said, grinning.

Maddy glared at Danny and he gave her his best "puppy-dog" look. She relented in less than a few seconds. "Fine. A one-piece. I'm not wearing one of those dinky little two-pieces, no matter what!"

"Done!"

At the pool, Madigan listened as Mac and Danny explained the situation, with Flack watching. They had a man dead of drowning and bruising on the victim showed he'd been forcibly held under water. The victim had been built like Mac, which explained why he was in the pool beside her in black and blue swim briefs. Madigan was wearing a nice one-piece purple and black Deep Waters Flyback Speedo swimsuit, courtesy of Danny's wallet. He had insisted on making sure she got a good one, hinting that he might be making use of her again at a later date. She wasn't sure what to make of that.

The only two suspects in the murder case were the man's wife and his mistress. The problem was they had just cleared the mistress through DNA and a solid alibi; she'd been having fun with the guy's best friend across town at the time of the murder. So that left the wife. That's where Madigan came in. Both she and the wife were similar in height and body weight, so the question became could a woman built like Madigan drown a man built like Mac? They were about to try and find out.

Danny had set up a camera for above and below the water so they could compare notes later as well as demonstrate it to the courts. Mac and Madigan also arranged a signal for Mac to use when he felt he was close to actually drowning.

Madigan was a bit hesitant at first and the first couple of half-hearted times resulted in her getting tossed by Mac with Danny and Flack laughing their asses off at them. The problem Madigan had was that Mac was a good-looking man fully dressed but when he was in nothing but swim briefs, it was a whole different subject from a young female's point of view, namely hers, not that she'd ever admit that to her brother. And, to make matters worse for her, they were required to be in very close physical contact.

The end result of Danny and Flack's teasing, along with the humiliation of getting tossed around like a ball by Mac, and being laughed at by him, was Madigan getting annoyed and frustrated.

Huffing, after getting tossed by Mac yet again, she pulled herself out of the pool and glared at them, all of who were grinning at her.

"I hate to say this, Maddy, but I haven't had this much fun in a while," Mac said.

She scowled at him. Then an idea came to her. Ignoring the guys, she got up, walked a few feet away and then suddenly turned, charged and flung herself at Mac from the edge of the pool.

"Have fun with this!" she yelled as she hit him square in the chest.

Her unexpected move and momentum caught the senior CSI completely off-guard and they both went under with a resounding splash. Her momentum drove Mac to the bottom of the pool and her tackle, along with slamming her knees into his chest, had knocked what little air he had in him out before she forcibly submerged him. He struggled but in her anger and determination, she was able to keep him down. It took less than a few seconds before Mac gave her the signal. She let go of him and they both shot to the surface, Mac spitting out water.

"What the heck happened?" Danny asked, shock on his face.

"I got mad," Madigan said as she and Mac pulled themselves out of the pool.

"Obviously!" Flack said.

"I had no momentum and no balance in the water," she explained. "I also had no weight."

"But that changed when you suddenly launched yourself at me from the ground. You had gravity, momentum, weight, and surprise in your favor," Mac said.

"Not to mention anger," Madigan said.

"That too. Also, the force of you slamming against me literally knocked the wind out of me so when I went down, I had less than the usual amount of air in my lungs and I accidentally swallowed water as I went down before I could close my mouth," Mac said. "Using your knees against me like that also worked in your favor."

"So a woman built like Madigan could have drowned our victim," Danny said.

"Especially if she was mad enough," Flack said.

"It also explains the bruising on his chest and shoulders," Mac said.

"So, Maddy, is this myth plausible, confirmed, or busted?" Flack asked, borrowing a line from a Discovery Channel show called _Mythbusters_.

"Which myth?" she asked.

"That a small woman can't possibly drown a large man."

"I'd say this myth is busted three ways to Sunday. Now, can we go eat? All this 'drowning Mac' business has made me hungry."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: sorry so long on the up-date but here is chapter 5. I'm still trying to figure out how to gring Flack and Madigan's parents in to this and how they will respond to their daughter's presence. As for the CSI and CSI: Miami character reference, hey, Maddy's been bouncing around the States for the last six years; it could happen;) Anyway, R and R and any suggestions are welcome._

**Chapter 5**

"I know I've heard that line before," Flack groused as he studied the photograph of a makeshift tombstone.

They had been called out to a dead body discovered in a local cemetery, which was not a bad place for a body to be, except the victim, a male dressed in a suit, hadn't been in a coffin. Cause of death, or COD, was gunshot wound to the chest. At the head of the victim had been a fake tombstone, much like you would see in a Halloween set-up. However, this tombstone had a sign attached to it with the words "Here lies a rich man with his pocket full of gold."

Mac and Sheldon had determined that the body had been shot elsewhere and dumped in the cemetery. Flack's canvas had not turned up any witnesses. Beyond that, there was next to nothing in terms of evidence. What had struck everyone odd was that the man's wedding band had been in his pocket. The wife of the victim had not known nor suspected her husband was possibly cheating on her. That had been the result of yesterday's work.

Now, back at the lab, Flack scowled at the pictures on the light-up wall as Mac and Sheldon worked quietly behind him, trying to piece together what they could.

Just then, someone knocked on the door and Danny stuck his head in. "Hey, Flack, your sister's here." He gestured to the young lady standing beside him, headphones around her neck, which lead to a small CD player. She wore her classic ensemble of jeans, shirt, runners, and jacket.

"Can I come in there if I promise not to touch anything?" Madigan asked, looking around the lab, curious.

Danny grinned and gestured for her to precede him. She did so and went over to stand beside her brother.

"Hey, Maddy, what's up?" he asked her.

"Join me for lunch, big brother?" she asked, nudging him with her shoulder.

Flack chuckled. "You buying?" he asked, nudging back.

"Sure am. Just got paid today. I'm thinking of hitting Tony Roma's."

"Sounds good," he said, noticing she was also studying the pictures of the tombstone.

"Somebody must be a Vince Gill fan," she said.

"What makes you say that?"

"'Cause that's a line from one of his songs, called _Pocket Full of Gold_," she replied.

Flack's eyes went wide and he immediately gestured at Mac and Sheldon, who joined them. "Do you know the rest of the song?" he asked.

"What, you want me to sing it for you?" she shot back, grinning.

"If you would be so kind," Flack shot back, also grinning.

"Okay, ummm, let me think. You want the part with the line in it or do you want the whole song?" she asked.

"Just that particular section for now," Flack said.

"Okay, but be warned, I might bust your eardrums," she said, still grinning.

"I'll get out the earplugs," Danny quipped.

Madigan just shook her head and grinned. She closed her eyes and, after a moment, began to sing.

"_Some night you're gonna wind up  
On the wrong end of a gun  
Some jealous guy's gonna show up  
And you'll pay for what you've done  
What will it say on your tombstone  
Here lies a rich man  
With his pocket full of gold_."

"What's the song about?" Mac asked as Danny playfully stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it, pretending to wince, causing Madigan to try and take a playful swipe at him.

"Cheating," Madigan said. "The singer, Vince, was trying to warn this guy about his cheating ways. The 'pocket full of gold' reference refers to the man's wedding band being in his pocket. Rough guess, someone took the song, made it real, and publicly branded him a cheater."

"Hellava way to go," Sheldon said.

"And we get the fun part of finding out who," Mac said.

"And on that note, we are going," she said, dragging her brother out of the lab. "I'm starved."

At the restaurant, brother and sister talked about various subjects. He teased her about eyeing the waiter who had served their lunch and she went scarlet. She retaliated by ragging him about having to chase yet another suspect; they always seemed to run on him, something he hated.

Then the topic turned to current living arrangements.

"I think we're going to have to do something about you sleeping on the couch all the time. That can't be comfortable," Flack said.

Madigan shrugged. "I've slept on worse but if I'm going to keep hanging around and working at the same time, I'm beginning to wonder if we can't convert one of the broom closets in to a mini closet so I can hang my clothes. That way I don't embarrass Danny when he shows up."

"You mean embarrass yourself if he sees your under things," he quipped.

"That too," she conceded.

"Well, I've got a better idea. How about I talk to the landlord and see if he has a two-bedroom for rent?"

Madigan's eyebrows shot up as she considered the possibility. "That would seriously cut into your love life," she quipped.

"What love life?"

She grinned. "Right, practically non-existent."

"Just like yours," he shot back.

"And planning on keeping it that way for a while. I've got better things to do than tangle with guys, unless I'm deliberately tangling them up in rope. Matter of fact, I did that to a few guys when I was working on the ranch during the summer."

Flack groaned. "Do I even want to know the details?"

"Let's just say I learned how to lasso pretty fast, much faster than what the ranch foreman expected. That was when he had me moved to calf roping and then, eventually, steer roping. I was never interested in getting into the rodeo circuit but the boss and the foreman of the ranch told me that I would always have a job with them and I was always welcome to come back any time."

"Where was that?"

"Near Battle Mountain, Nevada. I swung through Las Vegas on my way up and met a really cool friend. I've kept in touch with him," she said, digging around her bag and pulling out what looked like a small photo album. She flipped it open and flipped through the pages until she found the one she wanted; a grinning white man with black hair and sunglasses. He wore a dark blue vest with white stripes and the words CSI on the front. The words underneath the photograph identified him as Nick Stokes of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. There was also an e-mail address and a home address written in a handwriting Flack knew wasn't Madigan's.

"Nick was kind enough to buy me a cup of coffee and some breakfast after I helped him out with a minor case and then helped save his ass. Guess he felt sorry for me or something but I promised him I'd be okay and I'd drop him a postcard once in a while," Madigan explained.

"Wow, that was nice of him," Flack said.

Madigan nodded. "I met a lot of cool people during my travels," she said. "It got to the point that I had to get that book and a camera just to keep track of everyone I met. That reminds me, I need to send a friend in Miami a postcard as well."

"If you don't mind my asking…"

She leaned over and flipped through the book until she settled on a picture of a pretty black woman wearing scrubs. The writing under the photograph identified her as Dr. Alexx Woods, M.E. of Miami. Underneath, again in a different handwriting were an address for her home and her workplace and an e-mail address.

"I helped her out of a jam involving a stuck vehicle loaded with bodies," Madigan explained. She gave me a lift and a temporary job that got me a bit of cash and a place to stay before I moved on. She even introduced me to Tim "Speed" Speedle, a CSI she sometimes worked with, before he was killed a couple of months later." She pointed to a picture of a white black-haired man who seemed to be glaring at the camera but if you looked closely, you could see his lips twitching. Underneath were the name "Tim 'Speed' Speedle", an address and e-mail address not in her handwriting, and a DOD written in her handwriting. Tucked behind the photograph was a newspaper clipping about the CSI's death. Flack remembered the incident. It had shocked a lot of people.

"Anyway, back on topic," Flack said as he handed the book back to Madigan.

"Right, the two-bedroom apartment. Well, it certaintly is worth a look. I'm willing to pitch in with the rent and bills," she said.

"In that case, I'll talk to the landlord and see what he has to say."

"Sounds good to me. Umm, Mom called. I saw the caller i.d. on the phone and she left a message," she said.

"How come you didn't answer the phone?" he asked, curious.

"Wasn't sure what I was going to say, other than 'Hi Mom, I'm back in town. Miss me?'" she quipped. "Not a good way to start things."

"Good point. Maddy, I hate to say this, but sooner or later you're going to have to deal with them," he said gently.

"Yeah, I know. I'd just rather do so on familiar turf and make sure I've got a get-away plan in case things turn ugly. Rule of survival," she said.

"You may want to deal with them on familiar turf but what if they choose to deal with you on not-so-familiar turf?"

"Then I play it by ear. All I can do," she replied. "Look, I promise you, I'll behave. I'm not going to start anything and I would rather walk away from a fight than get involved in one. I promise, one way or another, things will be okay."

Flack nodded. There wasn't much he could do and he knew it.

"Oh, by the way," he said, a mischievous grin coming over his face. "Mac said the pool thing, that was the most fun he'd had in a while. Danny wants to know if he can use you again in another experiment if the opportunity comes up."

Madigan groaned. She was never going to live that down. "Tell you what; if Danny wants to use me as a human guinea pig, I am getting the shirt first," she said, referring to the popular _Mythbuster_'s _Human Guinea Pig _shirt.

"I'll talk to Danny," Flack said, chuckling.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: anonymous TiredofOCs, while I freely admit nobody is perfect, you get a young woman like Maddy who has spent the last six years bouncing around the States, living on the streets, you're going to have all kinds of adventures. She's not perfect, as evident by the fact that she rebelled against her parents and left home with a boy at 18, got pregnant by 19, and damn near punched out Mac Taylor less than twelve hours after arriving in New York. However, she has a good heart and a strong sense of determination. If she doesn't get it right the first time, she'll keep trying until she does get it right. She's a survivor and she will do whatever it takes to survive without crossing her moral line, a line strongly influenced by the love and respect she has for her older brother. Such as it is, she's been away from home for six years and is attempting, with Flack's help, to rebuild their relationship. It's going to take time and both are going to be very, very careful for a while. She also has a love of climbing, a natural agility, and with that natural agility comes a natural feel for rope and rope handling._

_If you're looking for flaws, I would strongly suggest you look in the mirror first, before judging others about their flaws. This is fiction, a place for people to express their ideas. While your input is accepted, if you don't like it, don't read it. More importantly, if you don't like it, don't bother leaving a review. The one you so kindly left subsequently got deleted and this is my reply. I sincerely hope it clarifies a few things._

_If you're tired of OCs, as your title suggests, may I suggest a good non-fiction book to read? You might find less to complain about._

_Now that my rant is over, for those of you who like Madigan and all her "flaws" please read and enjoy._

**Chapter 6**

"You want me to _what?_" Madigan asked, looking at one grinning Danny Messer. She wasn't sure if she'd heard Danny's request right. Something about blood and blood spill patterns and her in the same sentence.

Lindsey stood behind him, studying the pair of them, not sure if she should be grinning at the scene or feeling sorry for Madigan. She genuinely did like Flack's baby sister, finding her to be a fairly easy-going person and easy enough to get along with. She had also found out Madigan genuinely cared about her older brother but had a temper that surpassed his.

Just last week, Madigan had given her brother supreme hell for chasing after not just a suspect, but, as it had later turned out, an armed suspect. The whole lab had heard her yelling. When Mac had tried to intervene, Madigan had turned on him and verbally shredded the poor man. Lindsey had been left idly wondering why Mac's shirt was still intact due to the sharpness of Madigan's verbal attack. No one had dared tried to intervene after that. Flack had later pointed out that Madigan's temper was like a grenade; once the pin was pulled, there was no stopping her. Just like an actual grenade, her explosions were loud, large, often painful, but mercifully short. There was only one catch; God help anyone who happened to make the mistake of trying to either intervene or calm her down, as Mac had found out the hard way. Once the explosion was over, it was over, as everyone had noticed about an hour later as Madigan showed up again, fresh suit in hand, and took Flack's ruined suit with her to pay a visit to the drycleaner. She had also bought Mac a fresh cup of coffee as a form of apology, something he'd gratefully accepted.

Now both Lindsey and Danny were involved in a homicide case and they were stumped because of the bloodstained blanket. Both knew evidence spoke if one knew how to listen, but if the blanket was talking, it wasn't saying anything anyone could understand. That was why Danny had brought Madigan in. She was roughly the same size and height as the female victim that had previously been on the blanket. Plus, as Danny had quietly admitted to Lindsey earlier, she was so much fun to pick on for these kinds of experiments.

"We need to do a blood splatter analysis and you're about the same size and height as the victim. That involves pouring stimulated blood on you with you in various positions and seeing what matches the splatter patterns from the blanket," Danny explained patiently.

"Was the victim wearing anything?" Madigan demanded suspiciously.

"Nope," Danny said, grinning.

Madigan groaned. "Can I get away with a sports bra and boy shorts? It's not like I want to parade around here starkers."

"Only if you don't mind them being stained," Lindsey cautioned.

"Let me guess; white corn syrup and food coloring," Madigan said.

Both CSIs nodded.

Madigan studied the pair of them for a moment, thinking. To be honest, she thought it would be kind of fun, in a sort of creepy-fun way, to play "Victim" and do the whole blood-splatter comparison thing. She hadn't watched a lot of cable during her travels, since cable had been a luxury she hadn't always been either able to afford or have access to. However, there had been one show that had caught her attention and she'd watched every chance she got; Discovery Channel's _Mythbusters_. Some of their experiments, which had been logically and scientifically approached, had been funny as hell with the results. And now, in a rather odd way, she was serving as a human guinea pig for the NYPD crime lab. How many people got to say that? However, for the sake of all things, she couldn't make it look _too_ easy.

"What the hell. Fine, where's the nearest washroom so I can strip with some measure of dignity?" she asked, earning a wide grin from Danny and a smile from Lindsey.

Lindsey took her to the women's washroom where Madigan changed into her sports bra and a pair of grey cotton-spandex boy-shorts. It was then Lindsey spotted what looked like a tattoo of a black badge just under Madigan's sternum, in the area of her diaphragm. She was curious but decided to wait to ask what she considered a fairly nosy question.

Danny had the sheets and "blood" set up and was waiting for them when the two women entered the testing lab. The sheet covered a foam-covered table about the size of a queen-size bed, which had been about the size of the victim's bed. Taking a washable marker, Danny and Lindsey, using photographs for reference, drew "wounds" on Madigan, the same wounds as found on the victim.

Chad, a trace lab technician who had once done a sheet blood-splatter analysis stint with Stella and Mac, was serving as their "attacker" should they decided they needed one.

Danny also noticed Madigan's tattoo, noting it was a NYPD badge done in basic black, with the word _Flack_ and a series of numbers underneath the badge. He decided to wait until the experiment was over before asking her about that.

Between the "blood" splatter, Madigan's suggestions, Chad's help "attacking" Madigan with a "knife" and Lindsey and Danny's own eyes, they were able to piece together what had happened to the victim.

She had been asleep on her side when someone had tried to slice her throat. The first cut had been shallow but had smarted enough for her to wake up and try struggling with her attacker, which had been made difficult by the fact that she was on her side and her attacker was leaning over her. The shallow cut had also nicked her carotid artery, which had caused some of the blood splatter. The killing blow had been when the killer had plunged the knife into her trachea and she had subsequently choked to death on her own blood. However, that hadn't apparently satisfied the killer because the victim's throat had then been slashed several more times, after her heart had stopped beating, as indicated by the blood splatter.

After Madigan had taken a shower in the women's locker room and changed back into her street clothes, Danny bought Madigan a cup of coffee from the breakroom and he and Lindsey broached the subject of her tattoo.

"I couldn't help but notice it," Danny admitted. "It's kind of unusual."

Madigan smiled ruefully and said, "I know, that's what the tattoo artist who did it said, but once I explained _why_ I wanted it done, the guy was quite happy to help."

"So why did you have it done?" Lindsey asked, curious.

"It was a means of identifying me. I spoke to a cop about it once one night, I can't exactly remember when or where, but it shortly after I started traveling. I asked the guy about permanent identification because I'd heard stories about hitchhikers vanishing and becoming Jane and John Does and I wanted to make sure that if anything bad happened to me, there would be a way to trace me. I wanted to know what would get their attention," Madigan explained. "I even told the cop about Donny and it was the cop who suggested that I get a tattoo of the NYPD badge and have Danny's last name and badge number added to it," Madigan explained. "When I asked about tattoo removal, he said that even though the ink is gone from the first layer of skin, it isn't gone from the second layer and tattoos can be recovered. Takes a bit of work but it's doable and tattoos are always of interest to cops because they never know what they'll find out."

"How did you get Flack's badge number?" Danny asked.

"The cop. He got it for me once he realized I was taking his tattoo suggestion seriously. I had it put where it was put because that part is muscle but it's also close to my heart, since I couldn't put it right on my breast without baring my boob to the artist, which I didn't feel like doing," Madigan said. "It was also kinda like keeping my brother close to me."

"Does Flack know?" Lindsey asked.

"I don't know. I haven't told him and I don't think he's seen it," Madigan replied.

"_Seen what?_" came Flack's voice as he joined them in the breakroom.

"Seen the tattoo of the NYPD badge on my tummy," Madigan replied easily.

"You have a tattoo of the NYPD badge on your tummy?" Flack asked, confused.

"And our last name and your badge number," Madigan confirmed.

"May I see?" he asked, curious.

Madigan lifted her shirt to bra-level and Flack studied it, curious. "Why the heck did you do that?" he asked.

"'Cause names and faces come and go, as do jewelry and personal effects, but any doc will tell ya, a tattoo is forever," Madigan said, pulling her shirt back down. "What would you do if you saw an unidentified female victim with that kind of tattoo and numbers?"

"Well," Flack said, thinking out loud. "I'd try and verify the numbers with which ever department the badge belonged to, just to see what came up."

"And if it came up to a name of an officer?" Lindsey asked.

"Then I'd contact the officer and see what his or her relation was to the deceased," Flack replied. A light bulb went on in his head. "Those numbers are my badge number, along with our last name, which means any smart cop would have checked those numbers with the NYPD and come up with me and contacted me to find out why my badge number was on your skin…"

"A permanent means of identification," Madigan said, "in case I couldn't identify myself for whatever reason."

Flack looked at Madigan with new respect. It had been something he'd silently wondered about in his more personal and frightening nightmares.

"Maybe I should do the same thing," he said.

"Sure, if you don't mind needles," she quipped, grinning. He stopped at that thought.

"And maybe I need to think about that idea a bit more first," he amended, amid grins and chuckles from Danny, Lindsey, and Madigan.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Wildest Dreams: Dolly Parton. __The Change: Garth Brooks. Bible and a Bus Ticket Home: Collin Raye. Lyrics can be found on the Net for your convenience. R and R and let me know what you think. For those who have reviewed, thanks a bunch!_

**Chapter 7**

"_Why can't you let me be who I am, not who you think I'm supposed to be?"_

Rachel Flack flinched as the echoes of the last argument she had with her daughter floated through her mind. Her son, Don Jr., had just asked her if she'd heard from Madigan since she left home six years ago.

"No, no I haven't. Have you?" she asked.

"Got a post card from her that said she was in California. Long Beach, to be exact."

"What did she say? Anything much?"

_"I don't want to be a cop! I want to be me! But you can't see that and you never will!" Madigan yelled._

"Nothing much, just that she's doing okay and Long Beach is nice."

Rachel nodded.

Flack sighed heavily. He was in the kitchen with his mom, helping her with dishes while discreetly trying to get a temperature reading on the situation with his parents and Madigan. His dad, Don Sr., was in the living room catching a football game and they'd just had dinner.

"How would you feel if she ever came back?" he asked.

"I don't know," Rachel admitted. "The last fight we had, it was… ugly, to say the least. Your father was pushing her pretty hard to join the Police Academy and she flatly refused."

"I know," he admitted. "She respected what I did but she knew she wouldn't cut it as a cop."

Rachel nodded. "I realize that now. Maddy's always had to walk her own path. I just couldn't see that," she admitted. "All I saw was a rebellious child I couldn't control."

Flack smiled. "In a lot of ways, Maddy was like a wild horse. She was born to run and born to be free. To tame her was to break her spirit and there's nothing sadder than a horse with a broken spirit."

_"You walk out that door, Madigan Sarah Flack, and you can forget about coming back!" Don Sr. yelled._

"_Fine! It's not like I'm wanted here anyway!" Madigan yelled back. "At least Davey accepts me for who I am!"_

"Sometimes I wonder about her," Rachel admitted. "It's been six years. I would imagine she's got a child of her own now."

Knowing otherwise, Flack said tactfully, "She didn't say."

"Anything about the boy she left with?"

Flack shook his head. That was the truth. None of Madigan's postcards had said anything about Davey and they'd all been mailed to the NYPD. Over the years, he'd gotten birthday and Christmas cards plus the occasional postcard. He'd received the one from California about a week ago, much to his and Madigan's amusement. She had mailed the card about four days before leaving California for New York and had been home for almost a month.

"How did you ever get along with her?" Rachel asked.

Flack shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just let her be herself."

She nodded. "I do miss her. Six years is a long time not to see or hear from your own child. I wonder what she's like now."

"People change, Mom, even after six years. How does Dad feel about her?"

"I don't know. After Maddy left, he never spoke of her again."

_"I'm eighteen! This is my life and I'm going to live it the way I chose! I'm not going to be a cop!" Madigan yelled._

"_Your brother is, as am I, and so was your grandfather!" Don Sr. yelled back. "It's expected of you!"_

"_So? I respect what Donny does but that doesn't mean I want to be like him!"_

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Got a postcard from Maddy. It came from California."

Don Sr. grunted at the mention of his youngest child. "Probably having the time of her life."

"Didn't say. Just said that she was in Long Beach, weather was nice and she was doing okay." The postcard had also said she'd heard about the bombing and was going to try and come back for a visit in the near future but Flack tactfully omitted that.

Don Sr. grunted again. "Probably still with that boy she ran off with."

"Didn't say."

Don Sr. simply grunted again and everything about him said the subject of Madigan was closed.

Don Sr. was a good man and a good cop, his son knew, but he had one major flaw; he didn't forgive and he didn't forget. After Madigan had left, he had refused to even talk about her. In fact, he disowned her. Don Sr. didn't even know Flack had given Madigan his grad watch.

_"I'm leaving New York, Donny," Madigan said. "I'm taking a Greyhound with Davey tonight."_

"_Where you gonna go?" he asked, sadness filling him._

"_Don't know but I can't stay here. Mom and Dad expect me to be like you and become a cop. I respect what you do but I…I just… I can't. It wouldn't work."_

_He nodded. She was right; it wouldn't work. The moment she set foot in the academy, she would be expected to live up to the Flack name and to follow in her brother's, father's, and grandfather's footsteps. And even if she did manage to do that, it wouldn't matter because it had already been done. That was too much._

_He found himself reaching for his watch, which had been a graduation gift from his parents when he'd graduated from the Police Academy, before he even realized what he was doing._

"_Here," he said, taking the watch off. "Take this and pawn it if you ever need to." He put it in her hands and wrapped her fingers around it. He knew it wasn't a lot but still, it was something._

_She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and he felt his own eyes starting to smart. He covered it up by hugging her tightly and she hugged him back just as tightly._

"_Wildest dreams," he said, knowing she would understand. "Now go, before I do something very un-cop-like," he teased._

_She smiled, still clutching his watch and let go of him, taking a very un-lady-like swipe at the tears on her face. She picked up her bag and was about to walk away when he said, "Hey Maddy?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_The change and Bible and a bus ticket home."_

"_I promise," she said. "And I'll drop you a postcard once in a while."_

"_You'd better or I'll hunt you down."_

_She smiled and was gone. And Flack took a swipe at the tear rolling down his face with the cuff of his uniform shirt._

Before he left, Flack wrote down an address, which he gave to his mom.

"What's this?" she asked, puzzled.

"If you show up between 12pm to about 7pm, you'll find the answers to your questions," was all he said.

"Answers to my questions?"

He just smiled and left. The next move was up to her.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sorry so long on the up-date and thanks to all who reviewed and made their happy opinions of Maddy known. I needed time to figure out where this story was going and how the Flack parents were going to handle her. Stay tuned 'cause next chapter, Maddy's past starts catching up with her. Also, anyone has any ideas for future Maddy/Don stories, let me know. I could really use some ideas and all ideas will be taken into consideration, with credit given._

**Chapter 8**

"That's it, that's right," Madigan coaxed the woman, who was a good couple of meters up the wall. "You're doing real good there."

"This is kinda fun," the woman, a new student to wall climbing called down, a grin on her face as she reached up and grabbed the rock protruding from the wall so she could move up a few more inches.

"That's always a good thing," Madigan said, taking in more of the support rope. "One thing I've always done is looked at it like a puzzle. Where am I going to put my hand, my foot, to make my next move? How should I move to reach that particular rock? It's like trying to solve a puzzle, only you need to decide what the edges are going to look like in order to fit the next piece in."

"Like Tetris," the woman said, pulling herself up a few more inches.

"That's one way of looking at it."

"Think I'm gonna dump my boyfriend," the woman said.

"Why's that?"

"'Cause he said he I couldn't do this, that women can't climb."

"Goes to show what he knows, huh? I'm an avid climber like you wouldn't believe. If it can be, it will be is my motto," Madigan said, grinning.

"I like that," the woman said, moving again. She was almost to the top.

Madigan sensed someone watching her but chose to ignore the feeling. She had to as all her attention had to be on the woman she was supporting. Besides, people watched her all the time. If the person really wanted her attention, as far as she was concerned, he or she would come up to her and talk to her. Other than that, she didn't really give a damn.

Rachel Flack watched the brunette woman in the climbing harness support the woman on the wall with the rope. The woman on the wall wore a climbing harness as well as a safety helmet. She hadn't known what to expect when she went to the address her son had given her. It had been several days since he'd given her the address and, after checking it out and finding out it was a local gym, she decided to find out what was going on. Now she didn't know what to think. She'd gone up to the main desk and, just out of curiosity, asked if there was anyone with the last name of Flack there. The receptionist had nodded, said there was a Maddy Flack, an assistant climbing instructor, and pointed Rachel towards the climbing gym, where a climbing lesson was in session.

Yes, six years had passed but Rachel would know her daughter anywhere.

Madigan had grown into an attractive young woman of twenty-four. She kept her brown hair short but her clothes and body said she was in good, healthy shape. Se was also, obviously, still involved in her favorite past-time of climbing. Only now, she was getting paid for it.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" a male voice asked politely.

Standing beside her was a man with the nametag of "Vince" and it identified him as a climbing instructor.

"Oh, I was just admiring the way the woman was climbing. She must have a pretty good instructor there," Rachel said, not wanting to draw attention to herself but hoping to find out a bit about Madigan.

"Yeah, Maddy's a pretty good teacher, especially with the women and first-timers and kids. I swear, she's like a human spider, which is why the staff gave her the moniker "Spider-Girl". She's that good and that agile," Vince explained.

"What's she like as a person?" Rachel asked.

"Easy-going, good-natured, friendly. She's got an energy and a bubbly personality that you can't help but like but she can get a bit sassy sometimes but it's all in good humor. However, when it comes to her climbing, she's a stickler for safety. I once saw her go after a SWAT cop for failing to properly check his harness before rappelling down the wall. He later apologized and admitted he was wrong for not doing what he knew better to do. He later said that after her 'explosion', such as it was, he made damn sure to never forget to check his equipment completely. Didn't want to risk getting his balls ripped off by her again," Vince concluded, laughing.

Rachel smiled politely. "How long has she been here?"

"About a month. We hired her right after we watched her help a lady through a climbing session. Seems she was here on her older brother's blessing and with his membership card. Hadn't been in town very long and was just getting some practice in," Vince said. "My boss was so impressed with her behavior, professionalism, and knowledge that he hired her after a short interview that day."

"Wow."

"Oh yeah. I guess word got around with the women and now I get more requests for them to work with her than anything one I've known."

"Sounds like it was a good move on your boss's part to hire her," Rachel said.

"Full agreement there," Vince said. "Looks like she's just about done with her student. Would you like to meet her?"

Rachel thought about that and decided to hold off on that for a moment. She needed to talk to her son first. "Another time, perhaps, but I assure you, I will be back to talk to her," Rachel said politely. She quickly walked away before Madigan could see her.

"Donald Bryan Flack Junior," Rachel said, glaring at her son. She was at the NYPD and, knowing where Flack's desk was, had gone straight to it, to find him talking to a man she recognized as Danny Messer, Flack's best friend.

"Mrs. Flack, good to see you again," Danny said politely. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some coffee." He quickly vanished, leaving Flack to glare at him.

"Mom, have a seat," he said, gesturing to an empty chair next to his desk. She took the offered seat. "I take it you went to the address I gave you."

"Why the _hell_ didn't you tell me Madigan was back in town?" she hissed at him. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be angry at being deceived, relieved that Madigan was alive and well, or conflicted about how she felt towards her daughter.

"Because neither Maddy nor I were sure about how you and Dad would react. Maddy wanted to approach you guys on her own time on her own turf. As you may recall, she was told that if she left with Davey, she would not be welcome back," Flack said calmly. He had mentally rehearsed this conversation repeatedly with himself after giving Rachel the address to the gym.

"That was _six years ago_," she shot back. "Things have changed."

"And how was I supposed to know that? You and Dad never spoke about Maddy after she left and the few times I tried, I was told to drop the subject, so I gave up." Flack studied her calmly. "I asked Dad about Maddy when I was over for dinner and he made it very clear that Maddy was not a topic he wished to discuss. You, on the other hand, seemed a bit more receptive, which is why I gave you that address. I was giving you a chance to see Maddy for yourself and decide for yourself whether or not you wanted anything to do with her."

Rachel was quiet. She had to admit her son was good with the logics, but then again, he was a cop and a damn good one. He continued.

"Maddy's changed over the last six years, Mom. She's grown up considerably and she's become a survivor who's not afraid of a little hard work to make ends meet. Danny, Lindsey, and Mac, they love her because she's a wonderful victim during their experiments," he said. "Stella treats her like a kid sister, as does Mac, and Sheldon loves bouncing trivia off of her. Lindsey loves hanging with her because she picks on Danny just as much as he picks on her." Rachel smiled at that. "She made me swear not to get involved between you and her. Her attitude is if you have a problem with her, you deal with her. She doesn't want me getting involved but I don't want her getting hurt."

"Does she want to deal with us?" Rachel asked.

"She has admitted to wanting to talk to you but not sure about what kind of reception she'd get," Flack said. "From what I understand, the last time you two spoke, it cumulated into a rather nasty argument that resulted in her leaving town that night."

She nodded. "Yes, it was a particularly… nasty argument. She didn't want to be a cop and both your father and I were pushing pretty hard for her to join the academy. We thought it would instill some measure of order and discipline in her, which we felt she was lacking in. I have often wondered what would have happened if we had just left her alone and let her do her own thing," she admitted.

"Why don't you find out? Maddy's grown up in the last six years, Mom. She's gone her own way and done her own thing and I like the person she's become," he coaxed.

"How? How do I go about doing that?" she asked.

"Maddy's been staying with me since she came back," he said. "These days she's got a pretty regular schedule and she's used to me showing up at odd times because she knows I work crazy hours. I usually call her when I'm on my way home because she sleeps on the couch. Right now we're looking at renting a two-bedroom apartment."

"So she's planning on sticking around for a while?"

"Yeah. She spent six years bouncing around the States and said she was tired of doing that. She came home because she'd heard about my accident in regards to the bomb. Took her a while to save up for the ticket and it was a three day trip by Greyhound, but she came home and everything about her, including her job at the gym, says she's planning on hanging around for a while," he said.

"What do I say to her?"

"I find 'hello' is usually a good place to start," Flack said, smiling.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Thanks for being so patient as I worked things out with Madigan. As always, let me know what you think._

**Chapter 9**

When Madigan came into the lobby of the apartment building, she wasn't sure what to expect. The buzzer had gone off and someone had said that Rachel Flack was there and could she come in? Always a cautious person, Madigan had simply said she'd be right down and she'd grabbed her cell phone, just in case. She hadn't survived six years on the streets by being stupid.

Waiting outside was none other than Rachel Flack, her mother. Time had been kind to the older woman. Her hair was in a different style, shorter and layered but nice, with hints of silver showing at the sides and temple. She wore sensible walking shoes, tan slacks, a green cable duster cardigan, and an embroidered denim shirt over a cream turtleneck. Madigan thought she looked nice, just nervous. Mind you, she was nervous as well and self-consciously tugged her bright tank top down a bit more over her well-worn jeans. She'd been doing a bit of house cleaning when the buzzer had gone off.

"Mom?" she asked, opening the door and letting her in.

Rachel gave a nervous smile. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," Madigan said back, not sure what else to say. "Umm, Don's not here right now; he's at work but, umm, would you like a cup of coffee?" she offered tentatively. She wasn't sure what was going to happen but she was willing to put her best foot forward.

"Sure. I'd like that," Rachel said, smiling.

Madigan lead the way back to the apartment and once inside, she said, "I'm sorry about the mess. It's my day off and I was trying to get some cleaning done. Don's a bit of a slob, but he's a bachelor, so what do you expect?" She grabbed a shirt from the back of the couch as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Some things just don't change," Rachel said, smiling.

"Well, he's trying, but it's not easy when you've got your sister living with you in a one-bedroom apartment," Madigan said, placing the shirt on the back of a chair in the kitchen and reaching for a coffee mug from a cupboard. She poured her mom a cup of coffee from the coffee maker and asked, "How do you take your coffee?" Rachel told her and she added the cream and sugar, stirred it, and handed it to her. Then she poured herself a cup and gestured towards the living room. "Living room or kitchen, your choice. Long as you don't mind me moving while we chat."

Rachel headed for the living room. Madigan followed, put her cup down and quickly cleared a spot on the couch for her to sit down. Then she started folding clothes.

"How, how've you been?" Rachel asked, searching in vain for a topic, something, anything.

"Doing okay. I've got a job at _Stonewall's Gym_ as an assistant climbing instructor. Guess all my climbing finally came in handy," Madigan said. She smiled at that. "I also get used as the occasional human guinea pig for Don's CSI friends."

"That must be fun," Rachel said.

"It has its moments but I had to ruin a sports bra and shorts recently for a blood splatter analysis. Corn syrup and food coloring _do not _like cotton," she groused, grinning at the memory.

"Blood splatter analysis?" Rachel repeated weakly, not sure she really wanted to know.

"Mm-hmm. Victim about my height and weight, found murdered in her bed, throat slashed. Danny and Lindsey were having trouble figuring out the blood splatter pattern meanings so I got suckered in to playing 'victim'," Madigan said absently as she folded a shirt of Don's. "Then there was the time I had to try and 'drown' Detective Taylor because they had a guy built like him dead of drowning and a suspect built like me. Got a new swimsuit out of it, courtesy of Danny's wallet. That was fun."

"Oh," Rachel said, not sure what else to say.

"Actually, Don thought it was hilarious," Madigan continued. "It wasn't until I tackled Mac from land that I managed to kill him. I spent most of the time being tossed around by him. But they got the evidence they needed, so that's always a good thing."

"I would imagine so," Rachel said. "Umm, if you don't mind my asking, what happened to Davey?"

"The dork I left town with?" Madigan asked. Rachel nodded. "Took off some time ago. Don't know where he went, don't know why he took off, and don't really care. God knows I managed just fine without him."

"How, how did you manage?"

Madigan shrugged. "If it's one thing I've always been, Mom, is resourceful. There are a lot of places that hire laborers with next to no résumés and pay good money. I went with where the work was. Got the calluses on my hands and the scars on my body to prove it."

"Why didn't you ever call us?"

Madigan looked at her and her eyes went cold. "You never gave me a reason to."

Rachel's face flushed in embarrassment. Madigan had a point there. "But that was a long time ago!" she protested.

"Yes, it was, and I've let go of the past but I didn't know if you had, especially Dad," Madigan replied. "I came back because of Don, nothing and no one else." Mother and daughter looked at each other for a long, quiet moment. It was Madigan who finally broke the silence again. "Now that you know I'm back in town, I'm willing to be civil, for Don's sake, but I won't go where I'm not welcome. However, I'm not leaving town again. I plan on sticking around for a while."

"A while? And what happens if we have another argument? Are you going to leave again?"

Madigan tilted her head, folding another item of clothing. She smiled. "Not a chance. I've done my wandering. I spent six years bouncing around the states, winding up in one state after another. I wound up in Canada once, abet briefly, but I'm not going anywhere for a while. I wouldn't have agreed to a two-bedroom apartment with Don if I were planning on taking off again."

Rachel sat back, not sure what to believe or think. On the one hand, her daughter had clearly grown up. On the other hand, memories didn't go away easily.

"When you left, didn't you think about anyone other than yourself?" she asked, deliberately pushing her daughter's buttons. She had to; she needed to know.

Madigan's eyebrows shot up. "My, my, my. Some things just don't change, do they? You still think I'm a selfish little brat who can't conform to society." Rachel flinched but Madigan didn't back down or away. "News flash, _Mom_," she snapped, raising her shirt to bra-level and flashing her tattoo. "I wouldn't have gotten _this_ if that was the case."

"What is that?" Rachel asked, leaning closer to study the tattoo.

"Identification. That's the NYPD badge and those numbers are Don's badge number and if my body had been found, the first thing the cops would have done would be to check those numbers out. That would have lead them back to Don and thus to me," Madigan explained. "If I'd only been thinking of myself, tell me, why did I make damn sure I could be identified in case I couldn't speak for myself? Hmm?" Her eyes flashed as she yanked her shirt down. "I came _back_ because I cared about Don. Yeah, it took me a while to get here, but it took a while to save up for a bus ticket 'cause a bus ticket from Long Beach, California to New York, New York ain't cheap and there was _no way_ in hell I was asking for help."

"How did you find out about Don?"

Madigan sighed heavily, wondering exactly what her mother was doing. "The incident was on national news and the fact that Don was injured during the explosion, that made the news as well. I did some research on the Net and pulled up every story I could on the whole thing once I realized who'd been injured." She paused, remembering. "One of the first things I did when I got back in to town was to personally thank Mac for taking care of Don. Mac's pretty cool."

"He's a good man," Rachel said, nodding in agreement. She sighed, thinking. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that the last argument we had six years ago didn't happen, because it did. However, I'm willing to start over if you are. I'm willing to try and accept you for who you are."

Madigan shook her head. "There's no 'try' here, Mom. I'm Madigan Flack. This is who I am. Take it or leave it, I don't really care. But if you're willing to meet me in the middle by accepting me for who I am, then I'm willing to be civil to you and Dad."

Rachel nodded. That was fair. "So, you said you were all of the states," she said, deciding to change topics for now. "Where did you go?"

And they talked about that. Madigan told her about her adventures, about the places she'd seen and the people she'd met. She mentioned the latest e-mail she'd gotten from her friend in Las Vegas, Nick Stokes, and it had included speculation that two of his co-workers were more than just co-workers.

About two hours later, Flack came home, just as Madigan started dinner. He was surprised to see his mom still there, talking pleasantly to Madigan. With Madigan's agreement, he politely offered her dinner but Rachel declined, saying she needed to get home to her husband and get his dinner started.

At the door, Rachel and Flack spoke quietly. "She's grown, I'll say that much. She's told me some things about the last six years but I'm guessing I'm not getting the whole story," she said.

"Give her time. There are some things she hasn't even told me," he said.

"I got that impression as well. Maddy's always been a pretty private person and I suspect time has tempered her. However, I like what I've seen and we've agreed to meet in the middle."

Flack nodded, glad things had worked out, more or less. "What about Dad?"

Rachel smiled. "Let me handle him. You may be his son but I'm his wife and I've known him for a great many years. There are some things I can do better as his wife than you can do as his son."

Flack smiled at that. As always, she had a point.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Poor Flack, what's a big brother like him to do when his little sister becomes an unwilling participant in a murder case? R and R, please and thank you and sorry so long on the up-date. Thanks goes to those who took the time to leave the previous reviews._

**Chapter 10**

"What's the harm in a little fun, Maddy? It's Halloween and you deserve a break," Flack said, taking a sip from his coffee as he studied his sister sitting across from him at his desk at the NYPD. "Go to the party and have a bit of fun. As long as you're careful, I'm not going to freak or anything."

Flack was trying to convince Madigan that it was okay to have a little bit of fun and go to a Halloween party that a friend of hers had invited her to for later that night. She had initially turned the invitation down, saying she had to work the next day, which wasn't true but she was trying to maintain a clean image with her brother.

"You sure?" she asked.

He nodded. "You've been working way too hard, kiddo. Go to the party, have a bit of clean, harmless fun and you never know, you might meet a nice guy."

She chuckled at that. "A nice guy at a party? That'll be the day, big brother, that'll be the day." She sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, thinking. What harm could it do? Besides, she hadn't been to a party in a long time. "What the heck, might as well. In that case, I just need a costume."

"Any ideas?"

She looked at him and started grinning. An idea was coming to her. "You got an old suit, shirt, and tie I can borrow?"

Flack mentally went through his closest and nodded. "Yeah, a dark brown one that's seen better days. Bought it about two years ago for a court case and I've had to take down a few suspects in it. It's the pin-striped one."

"I know the one you're talking about, yeah."

"Help yourself to that and any shirt and tie you can find," he said. "What are you going as?"

She grinned. "You."

On her way home, Madigan swung by a dollar store and found a toy police set, complete with cuffs and holder, badge, and gun and holder. Being a smartass, she went one step further and found a dark brown 'mustache'. At home, she found the aforementioned suit, a slightly worn light blue dress shirt, and a nice, simple tie. She had comfortable black shoes of her own, so that wasn't a problem. The pants were a bit loose, a problem solved by a belt, and the jacket was a bit large but that was fine. Using a bit of gel, she slicked back her hair into a style she'd seen Flack and Danny wear often enough. Then she applied the mustache to her upper lip and grinned at herself with satisfaction.

Having agreed to meet her friend at the club where the party was being held, Madigan decided to swing by the NYPD on her way. At a local bakery, she grabbed a container of Halloween cookies for her brother as an excuse and a treat.

When Flack saw Madigan making her way towards him, his eyebrows shot up and then he started grinning. The suit was a bit large on her, since there was a height difference of several inches between them, but she looked damn good.

"Mustache was a nice touch," he said, grinning broadly and accepting the cookies she handed him.

"And the only time you'll ever see me wielding a badge so enjoy this while you can," she quipped, grinning back.

He lifted the bottom of her coat and said, "Yup, gun's facing the right way, badge in the right spot. You got your cell and identification?"

"Cell on the back and clipped, identification in my travel pouch. I even have a mini Maglite, just in case," she said, referring to a very slim fanny pack that could be worn under the shirt. This was a common thing for travelers as it was safer for them to carry their identification and other important items there rather than in their wallet or purse, decreasing the risk of pick-pockets getting anything valuable. Her cell was attached to her belt by a slim, retractable cord that also prevented thievery. "If there's a problem, I'll call you, I promise."

_Four hours later:_

"Allie? Allie, where are you?" Madigan called, concerned as she looked down the alleyway behind the club. That was the last place a couple of by-standers had seen her friend, Alison, go with a guy she'd met at the party. That had been half an hour ago and Alison hadn't returned to the party. Now Madigan felt that tingle at the back of her neck that said there was trouble.

She took out her Maglite, glad she'd brought it with her, and shined it down the alleyway at head-height. "Allie?" she called again, hand going to her cell, just in case. A faint moan caught her attention, and so did something else. Moving quickly in to the alley but keeping a close eye out for trouble, Madigan came upon the last thing she ever expected to find; her friend, curled up on the ground, blood seeping from what looked like various stab wounds from her chest region.

Alison was a pretty, black-haired girl, twenty, and still in college. She and Madigan had become friends at the gym and it was Alison who had issued the party invitation. Now she was here and in very serious trouble. Madigan had her cell out and dialing 9-1-1 before she was even on her knees next to her friend.

"_9-1-1, please state your emergency,_" the operator said.

"I need paramedics to the alleyway left to the Wild Times club on ninety-first avenue and eighty-second street stat! I've got a female victim with multiple stab wounds to the chest region and she's fading fast!" Madigan snapped.

"_Paramedics are enroute to your location,_" the operator said calmly.

"Maddy," Alison whispered hoarsely.

"Hang on, Allie, you hear me? You hang on. Do you know who did this to you?" Madigan demanded, ripping Alison's skirt; she was dressed as a serving wench; and making makeshift bandages to try and stop the flow of blood while tucking her cell between her ear and neck.

Alison nodded weakly. "Harry Potter…"

"Harry Potter?" Madigan asked incredulously. That didn't make any sense.

Alison nodded again. "Chamber of secrets," she whispered. She was fading fast and Madigan could see it.

"Chamber of secrets? I don't understand," Madigan said, desperately. Alison just smiled sadly. And the light went out of her eyes. "Alison? Alison, you get your butt back here, you hear me?" she demanded frantically. There was no response.

"_Ma'am, ma'am, what's your status?_" the operator demanded, worry in her voice.

Feeling a familiar emptiness settle on her shoulders, Madigan said, "She's gone. I was too late." She could hear the sirens drawing closer and see the lights flashing. The paramedics. They were too late too. She stood up and stepped away from Alison, aware that Alison was now a crime scene. "Umm, listen, I don't know how you guys work, but could you get ahold of the NYPD dispatch and have them send Detective Don Flack Jr. my way? He's my brother and… I need him," she said to the operator.

"_Certainly, ma'am. Are you going to be okay?_" the operator asked.

Madigan smiled sadly as she waved her Maglite to attract the paramedics. "Is anyone ever okay when their friend dies right in front of them?"

"_Good point,_" the operator said sadly.

"The paramedics are here," Madigan said, moving out of their way to let them do their thing even though she knew there was nothing that could be done anymore, at least, not by them.

"_And dispatch has been notified. Detective Flack is on his way._"

"Thank you." And she hung up.

Flack was frantic. He'd just gotten a call from dispatch that said his sister was involved in a homicide and had requested his presence at the very club she'd gone to join her friend, Alison, at, saying that was where the Halloween party was at. Pulling up to the curb where an ambulance and several cop cars were flashing their lights, Flack bolted from his car and quickly searched for Madigan. He'd been off duty when he'd gotten the call and was thus dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Spotting his sister sitting in an open cop car and looking absolutely miserable, he flashed his badge at a cop and slipped under the yellow tape, making his way to her.

"Hey Maddy," he said, crouching down beside her. "What happened?"

"Do you remember Alison Prokop?" she asked. He nodded. He remembered her, having met the giggling girl once. "I was Designated Driver, the sober one, so to speak, and Allie and I agreed to stick close because of the number weirdoes out right now." She sighed heavily. "Anyway, around eleven-twenty p.m. I lost track of her. Last time I saw her, she was with some guy with wide glasses and dark clothing. Couldn't make out a damn thing with the crowds and the lighting. So I started asking questions and was told she'd left the building and was last spotted going in to the alleyway with a cloaked person. I found her bleeding to death from multiple stab wounds, called 9-1-1, used her skirt as makeshift compresses to try and stop the bleeding, and she died anyway. Took me about half an hour to find her after I lost track of her."

"Did she say anything, give any indication as to who her attacker was?" he asked.

"She said _Harry Potter_ and _chamber of secrets_ before she died but that was about it. Other than the book and the movie, it doesn't mean a damn thing to me," she replied.

"Okay, it's okay," he soothed.

"Donny, I _swear_, I'm stone-cold sober but I can't get the other cops to believe me, especially since I've got Allie's blood on my hands," she said, showing him her blood-covered hands. Tears filled her eyes.

"A breath-analyzer test can verify that," came Mac's voice as he joined them, case in hand. He'd gotten the call to the crime scene.

"Which I'll be quite happy to take," she said. "I just want this blood off my hands!"

"That's understandable," Mac said. "Unfortunately, you know there's a few things we're going to have to do first."

She nodded tiredly and leaned her head against the car doorframe. "Shoe prints, finger prints, and DNA swab for process of elimination?" Mac nodded, setting his kit down and taking out a pair of gloves. "Help yourself."

"You understand this is one case I can't get involved in, right?" Flack asked his sister.

"First on the scene, first suspect and the suspect in this case happens to be me, a.k.a. your sister and if you get involved, it could be seen as conflict of interest," she said calmly, closing her eyes.

Both men smiled. "For someone who's not a cop, you sure know plenty," Mac said, opening his kit and removing a swab for the DNA swab. "Mouth open."

She obliged him, without opening her eyes, before grunting and saying, "I hang around you guys too much."

"Maybe you should think about becoming a CSI," Flack quipped, grinning.

"Great idea, teach me how to hide the bodies better," she quipped. Then she cracked one eye open and glared at him. "Not a chance."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Okay, just to clarify, this starts out as a conversation via Instant Messaging on-line. Then it switches to a phone call and we get some idea of what's going on through Maddy's head._

**Chapter 11**

Maddy: Hey Nick, how's it going?

Nick: Not too bad. Got the nite off so I'm enjoying it while I can before I get called in. U?

Maddy: wish I could say I was doing good but I'm not. Halloween party didn't go the way it was supposed to.

Nick: oh oh. What happened?

Maddy: A friend was murdered and I was there when it happened.

Nick: what! Maddy, what exactly happened? Tell me what you can, kiddo.

Maddy: I'm still not sure. All I know is that I was with Allie, my friend, and around eleven-twenty, she went missing. Took me about half an hour to find her because of the crowds and the club lighting. When I finally did, she was in a nearby alleyway dying from stab wounds to the chest. I called 911 but the medics didn't get there in time.

Nick: does your brother know?

Maddy: yeah, I had dispatch call him and advise him of the situation. He was there pretty quick.

Nick: that's good.

Maddy: DNA and print evidence cleared me but Allie's parents are blaming me. Allie's mom slapped me across the face at the morgue today, saying it was my fault her precious baby was dead. Her daughter was a perfect angel compared to a street rat like me, and that was a direct quote.

Nick: ouch. Let me guess, you know otherwise.

Maddy: despite what they thought, Allie was not a perfect little angel. She loved boys, loved playing with them like toys and I had expressed some concerns about her behavior some time ago but it was a classic Oops! I Did It Again thing with her.

Nick: what did you tell them?

Maddy: right, like I was in any position to tell them anything, never mind the fact that their 'angel' wasn't such an angel after all? I'm a street rat, remember?

Nick: good point. Sounds like they're lashing out at anyone and everything except who they should be lashing out at, which is the killer.

Maddy: and it doesn't help that I'm already blaming myself. Just keep thinking I should've gotten there sooner, should've found her sooner. I know I did all I could but that doesn't make things any easier.

Nick: Does Donny know how you feel?

Maddy: I haven't said anything much because I don't want to worry him anymore than he already is. He's got plenty on his plate right now, doesn't need to worry about Little Sister.

Nick: Maddy, he's your brother, which means he's family. Worrying comes with being part of a family. I know you worry about him probably just as much as he worries about you.

Maddy: Probably.

Nick: Maddy, what's your phone number?

Maddy: 212-555-3232 that'll get you where I am right now. Why?

_Phone rings. Madigan answers._

"Hello?"

A gentle male voice with a slight Texas accent speaks. "_You really should talk to your brother, kiddo. He can help you, even if it's just to be there._"

"Nick?"

"_Who else?_"

Madigan sighed heavily as she logged off the computer. She was at home, and she'd been chatting with Nick Stokes in Las Vegas on-line. She knew her brother was home but he was soaking in the tub as far as she knew. "I just don't want to worry him."

"_But I get the feeling you need to talk to him. You sound like this whole thing is really getting to you._"

"It is. Like I said, I'm blaming myself for not watching Allie more closely."

"_But there was nothing you could have done, Maddy. From the sounds of it, you did all you could. I'm guessing the lighting at the club was pretty bad._"

"Black lights and flashing strobe lights."

"_That'll do it every time._"

"I was sober, Nick, I didn't have one drink the whole time I was there. She was a party girl and I knew it and I—" Madigan breaks off crying.

"_It's okay, kiddo, it's okay. You did everything you could. It sounds like Allie was a disaster waiting to happen and you just happen to catch the tail end of it._"

"I'm scared, Nicky, I'm so scared," she admitted.

"_What are you scared of?_"

"That this guy, whoever it was, is gonna know that Allie said something to me, that I saw something, and he's gonna come after me, make sure there are no more witnesses," she admitted. "I've been having nightmares because of it."

"_Do you trust your brother?_"

"Completely."

"_Then trust him by telling him how you feel. Tell him about the nightmares, kiddo. I've learned that by talking about the nightmares it helps make them go away._"

"I just don't want him to worry about me."

"_If he didn't worry, it meant he didn't care and some how Don doesn't strike me as not caring." Nick was silent for a moment and then said, "I've got Accounting griping at me about taking my vacation days. How about if I come up for a few days, visit, and you can show me New York?_"

"I would love to have you up here but I don't have a place for you to stay," Madigan said.

"_I've got a sister in New York with a couple of kids. It's high time they had a visit from Uncle Nicky._"

"Okay. Let me know when you get here. I look forward to seeing you."

"_You too, kiddo. Take care._"

Madigan hangs up but Nick simply says, "_You have any objections to my showing up, Don?_"

Flack sighed quietly. He'd gotten out of the tub some time ago and had been in his room when the phone had rung. He'd automatically picked it up and had almost put it down when he'd heard Nick's voice but then he'd heard Madigan's voice and curiosity had him listening in. Somehow Nick had known Don was listening.

"How'd you know?"

Nick chuckled. "_I'm a CSI, Don. I know what the sound of someone listening on an extension sounds like, even if Maddy doesn't._"

"Good point. Wish I knew how to help her."

"_Just be there. Get her to talk about her nightmares but don't let on you know she's having nightmares. More importantly, be patient. Despite her age, in some ways, Maddy's still a kid. She's a tough kid, sure, but she's too used to standing on her own. She hasn't learned that it's okay to lean on someone once in a while._"

"Bill Withers, _Lean On Me._"

"_Sorry?_"

"Sorry. Sometimes when Maddy and I wanted to say a lot without actually saying a lot, we'd use songs for reference."

"_Good way to get the message across without saying anything._"

"In answer to your earlier question, I have no problems with you showing up. Maddy needs all the friends she can get right now."

"_In that case I'll be there by about the end of the week. It'll shut Accounting up at least_," Nick said, chuckling.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Okay, thought I'd give a bit of background info on the Nick-Maddy relationship. I just could not resist this. I know, I know, my sense of humor is a bit odd, but oh well._

**Chapter 12**

_Early spring, two years ago, Las Vegas, Nevada:_

CSI Nick Stokes glared at the horse, which whickered at him. It was a nice-looking Quarter horse; a big dark bay stallion with black on it's mane, tail, lower legs, tips of its ears, and muzzle.

"Nice horse," he muttered.

Normally he had no problems with horses but for some reason, this one made him nervous, especially with the way it was eyeing him. He would have preferred to leave it alone but there had been a crime scene involving a murder victim and they had found hoof prints at the scene. Since the victim had been found at the ranch, a glorified Dude ranch, the horses had to be checked for blood on their hooves.

The ranch owner and his foreman had assured Nick and Catherine Willows that they would receive all the help they needed from their stable hands but so far the boys had been about as useful as having Catherine do a strip tease for the men.

"That's Dark Chocolate; he's a regular suck," the teenage boy, Adam, said, leaning against the door and chewing on a piece of straw.

"He doesn't look like it," Nick said.

"Horses are only scary if you think they're scary," Adam scoffed. "He won't hurt you."

"I'll take your word for it," Nick said, cautiously entering the stallion's stall as the boy meandered off. He decided to do the front feet first since they seemed to be the easiest and quickly took out what he needed. Then, having already done this several times with several other horses, Nick picked up the front hoof, swung his leg over the leg so that it was tucked between his thighs, bent over, and shined his flashlight on the hoof.

"Hey!"

_SNAP!_

The horse jerked.

Nick's head snapped up. He looked back to see a young woman with short brown hair leaning over the stable door, holding the strap of the halter near the horse's back jaw. The horse had its teeth bared and those teeth were about several inches away from his backside. Nick had a bad feeling he'd just missed loosing skin.

The woman yanked the horse's head towards her and slid back down the stable door. "Remember me, you big jackass?" she said, glaring at the horse.

Nick swore the horse had an "Uh-oh!" look about it.

"You know better than that," the woman continued. "You keep that up, boy, and someone may decide to finish what I started, _permanently_."

"Did I miss something?" Nick asked.

"Fortunately for you, no. Your butt's still in one piece. Didn't anyone tell you that this damn git has a nasty habit of biting people when they're bent over?" the woman asked, reaching for a lead rope and snapping it on to the horse's halter. She quickly tied his head to the doorpost, preventing him from moving his head too far.

"No. I was assured that he was pretty harmless," Nick said, realizing what had just happened; he'd come damn close to having his butt bitten by the horse.

The woman scowled. "Let me guess; Adam assured you this fellow was a big suck," she said in disgust. Nick nodded. "Let me tell you something, bud; fellow here has a nasty little game of sinking his teeth into someone's backside every time they bend over his front feet. I have a set of teeth marks in my butt because of him."

Nick winced. "Did you tell the foreman?"

"I did and he's hoping to break him of the habit but the problem is, people like Adam think it's _funny_ to watch people like you get bitten by him, not realizing someone could get seriously hurt. To make matters worse, by subsequently encouraging the biting, it's making the situation much worse and making it that much more harder for us to break him of the habit," the woman explained, disgust clearly evident on her face.

Nick scowled at that. "He seems to respect you," he noted.

"Only because I punched him when he bit me," she confessed. "Bad case of he bit me and I came up swinging. Hasn't tried that since, at least not with me."

He grinned at that.

"I'm Maddy Flack, of the stable hands that work here," she said.

"Nick Stokes, Las Vegas Crime Lab," he said. He noticed the calluses on her hands and deuced that she was not unaccustomed to hard physical work.

"Let me guess, you're here about that murder in the bunkhouse," Maddy said.

"That's right. We need to check the bottoms of all the horses feet," he said.

"Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. If you can give me a ride in to town to the bus depot, I'll help you with the horses. You'll get the job done faster," she said.

"I'd have to check with my supervisor about the ride but I don't see a problem and the help would be appreciated." He quickly placed a call to Gil Grissom, shift supervisor, who okayed the request but cautioned him to be careful. That cleared, Maddy helped Nick check the rest of the horses, including the rest of Dark Chocolate's feet.

Then they caught up with the foreman who asked them if they'd had any trouble with Dark Chocolate.

"Thanks to Maddy, here, I avoided being bitten by that horse. Seems _someone_ tried to tell me he was harmless," Nick said, looking pointedly at the stable boy, Adam, who glared back sulkily.

The foreman sighed tiredly. That wasn't the first time he'd heard that story and he was sick of it. He knew he had a couple of choices; one, get rid of the horse before he did some serious damage. Two, fire Adam, or three, put the boy on suspension. He couldn't replace him, as much as he wanted to, with Maddy, since she was leaving that night for a cattle job up in Battle Mountain, not that he blamed her. The money was pretty good and the owner was fair.

"I'll deal with the problem, you have my word on that," he assured Nick, who nodded, satisfied.

As he and Catherine loaded up the Tahoe with their evidence, Maddy grabbed her gear and joined them. Once Nick explained the situation to Catherine, she was quite pleasant towards Maddy.

"I think I owe you breakfast," Nick said to Maddy. "It's the least I can do for the help you've given us."

"Drop me off at the lab with our evidence and then go feed the girl, Nick," Catherine said, smiling.

At the restaurant, Nick and Maddy chatted and she told him where she was from. They had discovered a mutual friendship while working with the horses and as they chatted over breakfast, that friendship was cemented. The end result was Nick giving Maddy his e-mail address, home address, and phone number in case she ever needed help and extracted a promise from her that she would drop him a post card once in a while and an e-mail just as often, just so he knew she was doing okay.

Before he dropped her off at the bus depot, they took pictures of each other to help remember each other, and she swore she would send him a card when she got to Battle Mountain and the ranch where she was headed for.

"You'd better, or I'll come looking for you," Nick said, grinning.

"Oh, I'm not too hard to find. I'm the girl punching out the horses, remember?" she shot back as she boarded her bus, grinning back and leaving him laughing.

_New York, New York, present day:_

Flack sat sprawled in his chair, howling with laughter, tears rolling down his face. Madigan sat on his desk, glaring at him, arms folded across her chest. She had just finished answering his question about how she'd met Nick Stokes but didn't figure he'd heard too much past the part about having acquired a set of equine teeth marks in her left butt cheek.

Stella came up to them and saw the situation, raising one eyebrow. Jerking her head towards the detective, she asked Madigan, "What's his problem?"

"My brother has always had a very odd sense of humor. I regret to say that it has steadily gone downhill since. He'll no doubt tell you what I told him, provided he can stop laughing long enough," Madigan said huffily. She hopped off the desk and said to her brother, "If you can stop laughing long enough to hear me, I'll be at home doing something _useful_ like making dinner." And with that, she stalked off. For some odd reason, when Flack saw her backside, he started laughing all over again.

By now Danny had joined them. "Okay and what is your problem?" he asked his friend.

"Horse… bit… bit her ch-cheek," Flack got out between laughs.

"A horse bit Maddy's face?" Stella asked, confused.

Flack made a circling gesture with his hand while snorting with laughter.

"A horse bit Maddy's backside?" Danny guessed, eyebrows going up.

"And apparently has a _very _nice set of teeth marks to show for it," Flack said, holding his ribs before laughing all over again. "It's gonna be a long time before I let her live that one down!"

"Actually, I was thinking we may have to wind up processing your own crime scene if you don't stop laughing at her, with the way she was glaring at you," Stella said.

"Oh, I know, I know but the very _image_…." And Flack dissolved into helpless laughter all over again.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: takes place after 'Consequences', which just goes to show how up-to-date I am on the season three episodes._

**Chapter 13**

Madigan watched as her brother sat down heavily on the couch, put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. She had a bad feeling something bad had happened at work and everything about him said he really didn't want to talk about it just yet. He had just come in the door, taken off his shoes and coat with a grunt, not bothering to say 'hello' or respond to her greeting. Yeah, something was definitely up with him and it probably wasn't good.

She went in to the kitchen and poured him a cup of fresh coffee before setting it down within reach of him. Then she started dinner. Surprisingly, she was getting good at making something her brother actually bothered eating. However, right now, with what was going on with him, she suspected the best thing to do was leave him alone and when he was ready to talk she would be there to listen.

Flack felt as if his world was crumbling down around him. Everything he thought he knew, everything he thought he believed in, had been wrong. Mac, someone he'd trusted, had arrested a cop, Detective Dean Truby, who had been on a drug raid with him, because it had turned out that same cop had lifted three kilos of black cocaine and killed a kid, and then taken the bullet that had killed the kid.

He had trusted that guy, trusted him with his life because he'd been a cop too. Truby had worn the same badge as him, taken the same oath as him, even worn the same uniform as him, and he had all but spat on that by getting involved with the black cocaine trade.

He knew Mac had done the only thing he could and knew it wasn't Mac's fault any more than it was his. Mac had simply followed the evidence, which was what he was known for doing, which was why Flack had respected him. Mac had done his job, nothing less. The evidence never lied, he knew, and Truby had been guilty. He'd even admitted to it and the reasons why.

That didn't make things any easier.

He didn't know what to think, what to believe any more. He knew dozens, countless of criminals the cop had busted were going to be screaming for appeals and the whole department was going to feel the backlash, a backlash that would last for weeks, maybe months to come.

He would be looked at, he knew, and so would the other cop involved in the raid. He now knew how Danny had felt when he'd accidentally shot that undercover cop.

He felt dirty but it was the kind of dirty he knew he wouldn't be able to wash away with just a hot shower and soap.

_Why,_ he wondered as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, _does it take one bad cop to destroy the hard work of dozens of other cops? Why? Why does it always seem like what we do is never enough? Never good enough? Always seeming to infringe on the rights of others, even the bad guys? When we catch the bad guy, it's supposed to be a victory. We're supposed to be the good guys who just won another score against the bad guy in the fight for what's right. But when we have to arrest one of our own for doing the very thing we spend countless hours trying to stop, it makes me wonder if we're really winning the fight after all._

_The question is, what do I do now?_ he wondered. _Do I wait and see what happens, play it by ear? Do I trust Mac? Do I trust Internal Affairs? Hell, maybe even put in for a transfer away from New York and all this bullshit? What do I do?_

His nose caught the smell of the coffee beside him and he reached for it. Maddy, sweet Maddy. Ever so thoughtful and ever so patient with him. She hadn't said much past her initial greeting but he could smell and hear dinner being made. He would eat, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. His body needed substance as much as he needed answers.

Madigan needed answers too, like what happened to her friend, Allison. He knew there had been some leads on the case as he'd been keeping an eye on it but not getting involved due to conflict of interest.

They had learned that Allison had not been the angel her parents made her out to be. In fact, she'd been a bit of a player in regard to boys. She played with them and when she got bored with them, dumped them with little or no warning. She was known for going through two or three boys in a week. She had literally made that Britney Spears song, _Oops! I Did It Again_ very real. The investigating team figured that one of those guys may have gotten angry and decided to get even, permanently.

As for the Harry Potter reference, there were at least three guys Alison had dated who bore a passing resemblance to the fictional wizard boy but the 'chamber of secrets' part still eluded them. The only thing they did know for sure was that Alison had been stabbed several times in the chest, back to front, by something with a slender, double-edged blade that had gone all the way through Alison's chest. Her attacker had also been considerably stronger than her and there was bruising around her mouth, suggesting she'd had her mouth forcibly covered, which explained why no one had heard her scream; she couldn't.

He heard Madigan come up to him quietly and she crouched down beside him. He looked at her and saw the concern and worry on her face.

"Hey," she said. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but is there anything I can do to help?"

"Unless you happen to have a magic wand that can reverse time so that this whole shit never happened, I'm afraid not, kiddo."

"You need a Time-Turner, you mean," she said.

"A what?"

She smiled and went to a parcel that was sitting on the table. She came back a moment later and was holding what looked like a gold-plated bunch of circles with a working hourglass in the center with the whole thing hanging from a chain. "_Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_," she explained. "This is from the movie and they use it to turn back time. I found it on the Net one day decided to get it." She wrinkled her nose and said, "Doesn't seem to work but that may be because I'm a Muggle, not a witch."

"A Muggle?" he asked, confused, even as he studied the Time-Turner.

"A non-magical person. You really need to read the books, bro," she said, grinning.

"When have I got the time?" he shot back, grinning. Then he sighed heavily. "Pity it doesn't work. I could go back and stop someone from making a stupid mistake."

She waited patiently and he began to talk. He told her about what had happened in regards to Detective Truby and the murder investigation, and the missing black cocaine from the drug bust. He found himself telling her everything and it felt like a dam that had broken inside him.

"I just- I don't know what to do," he admitted. "I'm not sure what to think anymore."

"You're worried about the backlash," she said.

"Oh yeah."

"Want some advice from a purely civilian stand-point?"

"Sure."

"Ride it out. You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, you tried to stop this. Trust Mac and trust those above you. They know you didn't do anything wrong, that you went by the book. I seriously doubt you'll get any heat from this. Trudy made the mistake and he confessed. Let him pay the price. Let the lawyers sort out the convict appeals and all that shit; it's their job and it's out of your hands. Just keep doing the best job you can do and the rest will attend to itself. As far as I'm concerned, you guys simply weeded out one more bad apple and by putting that bad apple away, you can do your own job that much more easier. Focus on going after the perps on the streets, Donny, and let the rest attend to itself. However, whatever you decide to do, know that I'll support you. If you decide you want to transfer out of New York, then you've got a problem."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm coming with you." He grinned and she said, "Sorry, brother dear, but you're stuck with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: okay girls, who wants a shot of Carmine Giovinazzo, also known as our beloved Danny Messer, without his shirt on again? That locker room scene with him and Sheldon and the whole "spilled coffee" thing… love the tat on his shoulder and the chest and… excuse me while I reach for a tissue to clean up my drool. BTW, who caught Anna Belknap's preggy tummy that was flashed during her conversation between her and Danny? I'd say she's about seven, eight months along in that shot._

**Chapter 14**

Flack cussed and took yet another hopeless swipe at his dirt-streaked, formerly brand-new navy suit pants as he made his way to his desk. He and Mac had simply gone to have a chat with Matt Huxley; a suspect in the murder investigation of Nicole Garner and rather than play nice, the little twit had bolted for it. In the ensuing chase, Flack had slipped and ruined his pants. He hadn't been happy about it then and he wasn't happy about it now.

To his surprise, his sister was sitting in his chair, elbow on his desk, chin in her right hand, legs crossed, dressed in street clothes, and looking pretty glum. The position of her hand showed off the heavy gold antique St. Michael's signet ring she'd found at a flea market and had taken to wearing, especially when he'd told her that St. Michael, other wise known as Archangel Michael, was considered the patron saint of cops. Wasn't she supposed to be at work? he wondered, confused and concerned by her impromptu visit.

"Maddy, not that I'm not happy to see you and all that, but what are you doing here?" he asked, pulling up the visitor's chair and sitting down.

Instead of answering directly, Madigan looked at her brother, looked at his pants, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Didn't you just buy those?"

"Suspect bolted on me and Mac again," he replied.

"Now I know why your dry-cleaning bill is so high," she said. "That's the third time this month and it's only mid-November."

"Tell me about it. Fair's fair."

Madigan shrugged. "Boss advised me to take the rest of the day off. Seems I'm being evaluated due to a sudden rise in complaints against me and they want to find out what's going on."

"Who's doing the evaluation?" he asked, confused.

"An outsider, from what little I was told, just so that if it gets looked at later, they can honestly say that the evaluation was unbiased."

"Do you know anything about the complaints?"

"Again, from what little I could find out, it seems to be coming from one source but my source didn't know exactly who or even why. Needless to say I'm not happy about this. Not to mention pretty worried about things."

"Understandable."

"Think I could lose my job over this?"

"I don't think so. A sudden rash of complaints like this and possibly from one source, yeah, they're going to check things out but no, I don't think your job is at risk."

"Wish I could say that makes me feel better but…"

"But not helping."

"'Fraid not." She sighed heavily. "I swear, between my worrying about you and your job and my worrying about my own job, I'm gonna get an ulcer before I hit my next birthday."

"Been there, done that, not fun. If you have to, go bug Sheldon; he's good with the stomach settlers, except when he tells you to lay off the coffee. If he tells you that, ignore him." She chuckled. "Now, one important thing."

"Whazat?"

"Get outta my chair," he gripped. "The day you wear a badge is the day you can lay claim to that chair. I finally got it broken in enough that it's comfortable."

"Okay, okay, I get the hint," she said, laughing and getting out of his chair.

Lindsey Monroe waited patiently for the elevator and as she did, a tall, muscular man with a slight tan and black, close-cut hair approached the elevator bays. He was wearing jeans, shoes, shirt, and a nice jacket. In fact, Lindsey thought, eyeing him with female appreciation, he was rather good-looking, even if he did look a bit lost.

"You look lost," she said, deciding to take the initiative.

He chuckled and said, "Yeah, actually, I am. I'm looking for the squad room and, if I can find him, Detective Don Flack."

"In that case, if you'd like, I can take you there," she said, gesturing down the hall. "I'm Lindsey Monroe, CSI."

"Nick Stokes, Las Vegas CSI," he said, following her and accepting the offered handshake.

"Wow, what brings you to New York?" she asked.

"Part vacation and part checking up on a friend," he said.

"Sounds like fun. How do you know Don, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't, I know his sister, Madigan. I don't have a number for her cell, if she has one, so I figured if I can find her brother, I'll find her."

"I know Maddy, she's pretty good."

"_Going my way?_" came Danny's familiar voice as he caught up to them.

"Depends on which way you're going," Lindsey replied.

"Maddy's in the squad room with Don and she's doesn't know it yet, but she's going to get used as a Human Guinea Pig again," Danny said, grinning evilly. "I just spoke to her."

"Got the shirt?" Lindsey asked.

Danny held up a wad of black fabric.

"You're lucky she doesn't try and hang you, with all the 'experiments' you put her through," Nick said, grinning. Madigan had told him about those experiments.

"You know her?" Danny asked, not recognizing the new guy.

"And there goes my manners," Lindsey said. "Danny, this is Nick Stokes, Las Vegas CSI. Nick, this clown here is Danny Messer, also CSI."

"Hey!" Danny yelped in mock indignation, even as he shook Nick's hand. Nick chuckled.

The trio entered the squad room and made their way towards Flack's desk. It was Flack, now sitting in his chair, who spotted them first.

"We have visitors," he said, smiling as he recognized the dark-haired visitor.

Madigan looked towards where her brother was looking and suddenly bolted out of her chair.

"Nick!" she shrieked happily, flinging her arms around the older man, who, laughing, hugged her back.

"Hey, Maddy, how are you?" he asked, studying her face.

"Bit of a problem at work, fussing over Don again, but otherwise okay," she said, smiling.

Nick just looked at her and raised one eyebrow.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice. I get enough of that from Don, I don't need it from you," she groused, causing him to grin. "In the mean time, how are you handling New York so far?"

"It's not Las Vegas but it's not bad. My sister's kids were already driving me nuts so I decided to scram before I murdered one of them. I don't have a contact number for you, other than your home number, so I decided to try here and see if I got lucky," Nick said.

"Eeep! Knew I forgot to give you something! Sorry about that!" she yelped, slapping her forehead.

"No problem. You can always make it up to me with coffee," Nick said.

"You're just as bad for that stuff as I am."

"I'm a CSI who works night-shift. I _live_ on that stuff."

"Good point. Danny, you wanted me for something?" she asked, turning to him.

He tossed her the shirt and grinned. She looked at the shirt, looked at him, and asked resignedly, "Victim or attacker?"

_An hour later:_

"You _wouldn't_," Danny called down nervously as he watched Maddy toy with that little section of rope that he knew could lead to a lot of trouble for him. He was a good thirty feet up, suspended by a climbing harness, rope, and rappelling system. Underneath him was a large, air-filled fall pillow and Madigan was standing nearby. She too was wearing a harness and rope gloves but her rope was also his rope. Danny and Sheldon were looking into a possible murder investigation where a climber had plummeted to his death when the supporting rope had suddenly given away and they wanted to find out if such a thing was possible to do deliberately. Madigan was not only their resident Human Guinea Pig; she was also their climbing expert and knot expert.

"You know what they say, Messer," she called back.

"What's that?"

"It's not the fall that hurts…" and with that, she yanked the end of the rope. Grinning, she watched as all the rope work rapidly came undone and Danny suddenly yelled, arms and legs pin-wheeling uselessly as he plummeted rapidly downwards. "It's the _landing _that's a bitch!"

_WHOMP!_

"Just like me," she said, smiling sweetly at her nemesis as he emerged from the fall pillow, straightened his glasses, and glared at her. Meanwhile, Flack, Nick, and Sheldon were busting a gut laughing at him. "And I just answered your question."

"I hate you," was all he said.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Enjoy! BTW, thanks for all the nice reviews._

**Chapter 15**

"So how are you holding, and no half-truths here, Maddy," Nick asked as they walked through downtown New York.

Madigan sighed heavily. "I'm tired, worried, stressed out to the wazoo, and fed up of the bullshit I'm getting."

"What are you worried about?"

"I'm not gonna say I worry about Don, because I do every time I know he's off to work or at work so that's sort of pointless, but I'm also worried about my job, about whoever killed Allie might come after me, since the investigators in the case, namely Mac, have hit a dead end. Don, understandably, hasn't told me too much about what's going on with the case but he did mention they've hit a dead-end."

Nick nodded in understanding. Since Madigan was a witness to the case, even though she had been eliminated, the investigators wouldn't tell her very much in order to prevent leaks in the case.

"What about Allie's parents? Are they still giving you a hard time?"

"They are one of my worries. Seems Mrs. Prokop found out where I worked and she's shown up there a few times, calling me all kinds of nasty names and generally creating a major scene. I think that's why the evaluation is going on, even though I've only been on the job for about four months."

"What exactly, has she said?" he asked, concerned.

"Called me a whore, a filthy street rat who corrupted her precious baby, take your pick."

"Has she tried to attack or strike you?"

"Come pretty close to it but you've yet to meet Dale; ever seen Batista from WWE _Smackdown_?" Nick nodded. "That's what Dale's built like, both body-wise and height-wise, and he comes by it honestly. He can be intimidating as hell when he wants to be but he's a regular softie when it comes to the people he cares about and somehow I seem to fall under that category."

Nick grinned. "You got a soft spot for him too, don't you?" He grinned even wider when Madigan's face went scarlet.

"Anyway, back on topic, yes Mrs. Prokop has attempted to get physical with me, but thanks to Dale, she hasn't been able to get too far," Madigan said, determined to get her mind off of Dale and back on topic. "I've been tempted to get a restraining order against her a few times, but I'm not sure what good it would do. She's a grieving parent and she's lashing out at anything and everyone. I just happen to be an easy target."

"Still pretty unfair," Nick commented.

"Life is never fair, remember? Life deals you the cards but it's up to you to decide how to play 'em out," Madigan replied. "Besides, I know I didn't do anything wrong and the investigators have eliminated me, so that's enough for me."

"Doesn't mean you're not worrying," he said.

"Unfortunately," she groused. She stopped at a window and looked inside. "This is a particularly good movie store," she said. "I've found a few interesting things in here, like that _Van Helsing_ hat."

Nick grinned. "That was cool," he said, having seen a picture of it.

"Wanna go in?"

"Sure, why not?"

They entered the store and wandered absently, not really looking for anything. It wasn't until they came to the weapon section that a lightbulb went on in Madigan's head.

"Nick…" Madigan said, her eyes going wide. Nick looked at her, concerned. She pointed to a long, slim glittering sword with red glass stones and the words _Godric Gryffindor_ engraved on the blade. It hung from the wall on a nice velvet and wooden plague and had a price tag attached. "That's from _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets._" Next to it was a poster from the movie and showed Daniel Radcliffe as the title character holding the sword.

"It's nice," Nick said, not sure what Madigan's problem was.

She yanked him close and hissed, "Just before Allie died, she said two things; _Harry Potter_ and _chamber of secrets_. She was stabbed with a long, double-edged blade that went right through her chest. I know of at least two guys Allie messed around with who could have passed for Harry Potter."

Nick's eyes went wide as he began to piece together what Madigan was trying to say. "What if the person who stabbed Allie stabbed her with a sword prop from the movie? What if that was what she was trying to say? That her killer had a sword just like the Gryffindor sword?"

"And that sword was seen and used in only one movie, _The Chamber of Secrets_," Madigan said excitedly. "The sword is here but it makes me wonder, with that price, just how readily available it is. It's not a cheap piece nor a common one."

"Whoever stabbed Allie could try and clean the weapon but blood is a pain to remove and it can sneak in to all kinds of places," Nick said, grinning. He gestured to the store clerk, who came over to them. "Could we please have a look at that Gryffindor sword?" he asked. The clerk readily brought the sword closer to them and Nick carefully examined it.

"How readily available is this?" he asked.

"You really have to know where to look, especially on the Net but in New York, it's not that common. We're one of the few places that carry this particular beauty," the clerk said proudly. "This one is made out of stainless steel and is about thirty-four inches long."

"Somebody needs to know about this," Madigan said quietly to Nick.

"I agree," Nick said just as quietly. "Think you can afford to get a print from the movie?"

"Done," she said.

"Detective Taylor!" Madigan called as she raced to catch up with Mac, Nick hot on her heals. She and Nick had raced back to the predict after she had paid for a decent movie poster showing Daniel Radcliffe and the sword. Her brother had confirmed that Mac was in the building and likely to stay there for a bit.

"Madigan, what can I do for you?" Mac asked, wondering at the sudden formality.

"Sir, I think I know what Alison Prokop was trying to tell me before she died," Madigan panted, catching her breath.

Mac understood. She wasn't here as a friend or as Flack's sister, she was here as a witness and that changed things a bit.

"I'm listening," he said.

She handed him the poster. "We found a replica of the sword Harry Potter used in the movie and it's made of stainless steel, about thirty-four inches long and not that common in New York."

"We?" Mac asked, glancing at her companion.

"Sorry, Nick Stokes, CSI, Las Vegas Crime Lab. He's a friend who's here on vacation," Madigan explained. "Nick, Detective Mac Taylor, CSI First Grade. He's the investigator in Alison's case."

The two men shook hands.

"Did you actually see the sword?" Mac asked.

"We did and, speaking from a CSI's point of view, there were plenty of places for blood to get in to," Nick said.

The wheels started turning in Mac's head as he put pieces of the puzzle together. "Width?"

"Inch and a half at the most," Nick said. "If it's stainless steel, it can easily be sharpened without anyone really being wise to the fact that it has been sharpened."

"But who would have a sword like that and why?"

"I would," Madigan said, "And that's because I'm a fan of both the books and the movies. C'mon, Mac, you know what I'm like. I even have a pair of earrings that are replicas of the Evenstar pendant Arwen wore from _Lord of the Rings_, for Christ sakes!"

Mac had to admit Madigan had a point. Still, he had to question her. "Why this movie?"

"Allison said _chamber of secrets_. At first I didn't know what the hell she meant by the book or the movie, but now I think she was trying to tell me that her killer had a sword _just like the one from the movie!_" Madigan said. "If someone has something like this, well, they're not likely to try and hide it. I'd be inclined to show it off because it is a really nice piece."

Mac snagged Sheldon as he walked by and introduced him to Nick before saying, "Sheldon, do you remember any of our suspects being a major Harry Potter fan?"

Sheldon had to think about that for a second. "No, but I do remember that one of them had a roommate who appeared to be a big fan. Why?" Mac showed him the poster and explained the theory that had come to light, as well as the basic dimensions of the sword blade. "That would explain a lot. That handle looks like it would make getting the blood out a pain in the butt."

"The one we saw was pretty detailed. All kinds of nooks and crannies," Nick said.

"I think that warrants a visit," Sheldon said, grinning.

"Grab Detective Defenzo and hit the roommate. See if you can find that sword," Mac said.

Sheldon nodded and said, "On it." He took off down the hall.

Madigan sighed heavily and Mac looked at her in concern. She looked at him and said, "Don't look at me in that tone of voice, Mac. I'm fine." He just raised an eyebrow.

"Don tells me otherwise. Something about the victim's mother going after you and an evaluation at your job because of it?"

Madigan groaned. "Fine, yes, Mrs. Prokop has been going after me, I admit to that. Yes, I'm being evaluated because of a sudden large number of complaints against me. Am I happy about it? No. Can I do anything about it? Not at the moment, no."

"I can."

"How?"

"By making a phone call to your boss. That should clarify a few things."

Madigan opened her mouth to protest but, seeing this, Nick quickly grabbed her and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Maddy, Maddy, Maddy. Shut up and let the man do what he does best, okay?"

The glare on her face promised retribution.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Sorry so long on the up-date. Work and trouble up-loading was creating problems. Many thanks for the kind reviews as they kept my Muse going._

**Chapter 16**

Sheldon grinned at Mac as he held up a plastic evidence-bag covered stainless-steel sword. A red glass gem gleamed from the hilt. Just barely, Mac could make out the words _Godric Gryffindor_ engraved on the blade.

"That the weapon?" Mac asked as he entered the lab.

"It is indeed and there's blood on the hilt and on the blade," Sheldon said. "We're running a comparison now."

"Good. Who does the weapon belong to?"

"Would you believe Daniel Proctor's roommate, Aaron Mead?" Sheldon said. "Big _Harry Potter _fan. Even wears round glasses like the character."

"Real or fake?"

"Real. Guy's near-sighted."

Mac nodded. "Prints?"

"Pulled but nothing good. We are, however, running Aaron's DNA against what we got out of the victim's fingernails."

"Good. Let me know the results. Aaron saying anything much?"

"Only that he hated Alison, and added a few interesting expletives to that. Whore and ho were the politest. His roommate, Daniel, was quite shocked. Seems he thought he'd kept quiet about his relationship with the victim quiet. Guess not."

Mac nodded. "Anything else?"

Sheldon gestured towards what looked like a long black robe, which was laid out neatly on the table. On one side was a red and yellow badge with a gryffindor symbol on it. "Found this as well and initial tests are already showing the presence of blood on the front and on the cuffs."

"What is it?"

"I recognize the badge as belonging to the _Harry Potter_ movies. It's the House that Harry Potter belongs to and since they all wear robes, I'd say this is the robe that was worn when the victim was killed. Both Doug and Daniel denied it as belonging to them, but we've pulled some epidurals off of it and again, running a comparison."

"Good. Keep me posted."

"Will do."

Mac headed back to his office, smiling in satisfaction. Now they were starting to get somewhere on the case.

After Nick and Madigan had left, Mac had made a phone call to _Stonewall's Gym_ and spoken to Madigan's boss, a man by the name of Matthew DeCoteau, and had a question-and-answer session. He had explained the purpose of the call, which was partially as a friend doing a favor for a friend and partially as an officer of the law investigating a possible harassment case. Once he had cleared the air on that, Matthew had been pleasant and easy to talk to. In the end he was certain he'd gotten things straightened out.

It turned out that, yes, there had suddenly been a rash of complaints against Madigan and, yes, they had all come from one source, which turned out to be Mrs. Prokop, Alison Prokop's mother. She had taken one class with Madigan and that was when the complaints had started. Oddly enough, the number of complaints verses the number of classes Mrs. Prokop had taken with Madigan was much more than what one would have expected. Also, the instructor of the course, Gordon, had admitted that it had seemed like Mrs. Prokop hadn't even really tried during the course. She'd been snippy and rude right from the start and Madigan had clearly been her target.

Once Mac had explained just who Mrs. Prokop was, what her relation to Madigan was, and why she might be having a problem with Madigan, Matthew had come to the same conclusion as Mac had and agreed to have a closer look at the specific contents of the complaints. Mac had also suggested that if this continued, Madigan would be well within her rights to have Mrs. Prokop served with a restraining order as it was beginning to become more like harassment rather than simple complaints.

Yes, Mrs. Prokop was grieving, as was her right, but she was starting to lash out at the wrong person and there was a limit. Her behavior had to stop and stop fast before someone got seriously hurt.

_Twenty-four hours later:_

Aaron Mead sat at the table across from Sheldon and Defenzo in the interrogation room. Mac watched and listened from behind the two-way mirror.

"Your DNA was found under Alison's fingernails and you've got some rather nasty scratches on your face," Sheldon said, showing him the results. "Also, a sword that belongs to you has Alison's blood on it. Even the cloak we found in your closet has her blood and your DNA on it."

"_Your _DNA, _her_ blood," Defenzo emphasized. "You want to explain that?"

Aaron just glared at them.

"We know you didn't care much for Alison Prokop, not with what you called her while we were there," Sheldon said.

"She was a _bitch_ and she hurt Daniel," Aaron growled. "She didn't deserve him, not with the way she _played_ with him."

"But Daniel said he dumped her. Apparently he figured out what kind of girl she was and he was the one who dumped her," Defenzo said.

"So? Didn't stop her from sniffing around like a bitch in heat," Aaron shot back angrily. "Stupid slut couldn't leave him alone!"

"So you decided to make her leave him alone?" Sheldon quietly suggested.

Aaron laughed but it was a cold, chilling laugh. "He wouldn't do anything about it, so I decided to do something about it."

"What if Daniel didn't want you to do anything about it? What if he'd already taken care of the situation?" Defenzo asked.

"I don't care! That man is my best friend and I will _kill_ anyone who hurts him!" Aaron yelled angrily. He grinned maliciously. "Dumb bitch was always in to the parties and stuff. Halloween, it didn't take much for me to dress up like Harry. I even had the Gryffindor sword and I sharpened it real nice." His eyes gleamed. "Sucked up to the bitch and she followed me, thinking she was going to get a nice little treat. She got a treat all right; a stainless-steel treat right through her miserable black heart."

"So you're admitting you killed Alison?" Sheldon asked.

"That stupid bitch deserved it!" Aaron yelled.

"That wasn't for you to decide!" Defenzo shot back.

"I don't care! She hurt Daniel! _Nobody_ hurts Daniel! _Nobody!_" Aaron yelled.

In the end, Aaron was arrested and charged with Murder One and Pre-meditated Murder. As he was being lead away, he passed Daniel Proctor, who stared at him in bewilderment.

"Aaron, buddy, _why_?" he asked, confused.

"She _hurt_ you," Aaron shot back. "I would rather _die_ than let anyone hurt you, ever."

"Instead, you went after Alison," Daniel said. "Man, I learned my lesson in regards to her and I'd already dumped her! I decided she wasn't worth the hassle or the heartache. She wasn't worth _killing _over."

"But she _hurt_ you!" Aaron protested.

"Not that bad, for Christ sake's! Yeah, it smarted but hey, I got over it! Man, I really thought I knew you," Daniel said, shaking his head and walking away, leaving Aaron to stare at him, a heart-broken look on his face.

In Reception, Madigan and Nick were talking quietly to Flack and Mac, who had just confirmed they had just arrested Alison's murderer. Madigan and Nick had spent the day wandering around New York, playing tourist, and Nick had several roles of film to show for it. What they didn't know was that Mr. and Mrs. Prokop were also there, having gotten word that their daughter's murder had been solved and her killer arrested. Mr. Prokop had gone to get coffee and Mrs. Prokop had availed herself of the women's rest room. No one saw Mrs. Prokop come out of the restroom and lay eyes on the person she blamed for her daughter's death.

"_You bitch!_" Mrs. Prokop yelled, rage pouring through her as she saw Madigan, looking healthy and happy, the way her daughter should have been. It was _her _fault her baby was dead. _Her fault and she was going to pay. _She charged and attempted to take a swing at the younger woman, thinking surprise was on her side.

Madigan saw Mrs. Prokop charge at her out of the corner of her eye and her instincts kicked in. She grabbed, spun, twisted, and shoved, all in one smooth move, using her momentum against her and firmly planting her would-be attacker on the floor. She wisely kept a grip on the woman's arm, which was twisted in an uncompromising position and one hand between the woman's shoulder blades, increasing the pressure. Because Mrs. Prokop had not expected her intended victim to react quite so quickly she'd not had time to brace herself and was thus granted with a scraped forehead and chin as her face connected with the floor.

"That's enough, Mrs. Prokop! Enough!" Madigan said firmly. She'd had enough of this woman's attacks against her, the insults, and the anger. Enough was enough. "Calm down, right now!"

Mrs. Prokop said something rude and tried to struggle but Madigan simply increased the pressure on the woman's arm, causing more pain.

"Stop this, stop it right now!" Madigan snapped. "Either calm down or I will be forced to cuff you for both your safety and mine! You will also subsequently be charged with attempted aggravated assault and I would rather not have to do that!"

Several cops, including Nick, Mac, Flack, and Stella, who had heard the commotion and joined them, stood nearby, watching and waiting warily.

Those who knew Madigan knew she'd been fully trained by her brother in both cop-style self-defense and arrest tactics. Also, six years on the street had taught her a few tricks, as well as helping her hone her skills. To make matters interesting, due to the fact that she was a regular wall climber, ate a healthy diet that reflected her work and body-needs, had taken up kick-boxing at the advice of a friend, and did regular lightweight strength training on top of all that, Madigan was in pretty good shape and had plenty of extra strength that was belied by her size and choice of loose but comfortable clothing. As it was, keeping someone like Mrs. Prokop down was not a problem for her.

Mrs. Prokop began to calm down, or so it seemed.

"Okay, I'm going to let you go and I'm going to step away. I advise you not to attempt to assault me again. The next move is yours," Madigan cautioned. She let go of the woman and took three steps back, keeping a close eye on her.

Glaring, Mrs. Prokop stood up, shaking some feeling back in to her arm. Then she attacked again, fingers curled in to claws, thinking Madigan would not be expecting the attack. Unfortunately, she found herself back down on the floor, chest first and another bruise on her face.

"Fine, I'm placing you under a Citizen's Arrest. Somebody hand me a pair of cuffs please," Madigan said, annoyed as heck about the way things were turning out. There was a clicking noise of metal on metal and she looked up. At least four pairs of cuffs dangling towards her. She snorted in amusement. "I just need one pair, guys," she said, taking what looked like Stella's cuffs, simply because she was closer. "Okay, Mrs. Prokop, I'm placing handcuffs on you for both your safety and my protection. Do you understand this?" she asked as she quickly snapped the cuffs on the woman's wrist. Some time ago, at the advice of her brother, both Flack and Mac had taught her what to do in case she ever had to make a Citizen's Arrest. It had been a wise move and an equally wise investment in time, as they were discovering now.

"You can't do this to me!" Mrs. Prokop yelled, trying to squirm but finding it to be a useless attempt as Madigan grabbed her other arm and cuffed that wrist.

"You've attempted to attack me twice now, ma'am, even after I warned you not to." Two cops stepped forward and helped Madigan stand Mrs. Prokop up. She faced the angry woman and studied her. "I say again, just so we're clear on this; this is a Citizen's Arrest, you have been cuffed for both your safety and my protection, and you will be charged with attempted agravated assault. Do you understand this?"

"Go to hell, you filthy bitch!" Mrs. Prokop yelled angrily. "It was your fault my precious baby was killed! Your fault!"

"That's enough, Naomi!" Richard Prokop snapped as he joined them. He had gone to get a cup of coffee from the vending machine and come back in time to see his wife being arrested. "I understand you're hurting and you're greiveing, just like me, but going after this young woman, I won't tolerate this any more!"

"You traitor!" she yelled, struggling against the two cops who held her.

"Book her," Mac directed the two officers and they nodded, dragging their struggling suspect with them. "It's a bit late at night and the D.A. won't be available at this time of night. She'll have to spend the night here before she can see him."

"That's fine. Maybe a night in a cell, being treated like a common criminal, will get through to her," Richard said tiredly.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," Madigan said appologetically.

"It's not your fault, Ms. To be honest, I can't really say I blame you. My wife was totally out of line that time," he said. There was a tired, resigned look about him and Madigan went over to him and gently put one hand on his arm in sympathy. "Naomi hasn't had an easy time of it since Alison's death. She idolized that girl and tended to spoil her a bit. I was aware of her behaviour towards boys but Naomi always pooh-poohed it, saying she was just being a woman and having a bit of harmless fun." He looked at Madigan earnestly and said, "I'm really, really sorry about my wife's behaviour. If there's anything I can do, let me know."

"Mrs. Prokop filed some complaints about me at my place of work…" Madigan admited.

"I'll pay a visit to your boss first thing in the morning and get that cleared up right away," Richard said.

"I appriciate that. Tell you what, we'll see how Mrs. Prokop's behaviour is in the morning and if she is better, I will consider having the charges dropped. Maybe a night in jail might snap her out of her behaviour and help her see what she's doing," Madigan said, smiling gently.

Richard smiled in relief and went to go see the officers in Booking in regard to his wife.

"You okay?" Nick asked quietly as he joined her.

"Yeah, just glad that's over with," Madigan admitted. "I think I'm going to go home and take a nice, long, hot bath and then get some sleep."

"Good idea," Flack said, joining them.

"Oh, and Nick?" Madigan asked.

"Yeah?"

"Payback is tomorrow. Don't think I haven't forgotten," she warned.

He grinned as she walked away.

"Payback for what?" Flack asked, curious.

"I shut her up when she tried to object to Mac doing her a favor," Nick explained, grinning. "She didn't take it too well."

"In that case, I'd get nervous," Flack said. "Maddy's payback's are when you'd least expect it."

"You been on the receiving end of it?"

"Among other things," Flack said tactfully, the look on his face suggesting it would not be a good idea to pursue that particular subject. Nick grinned wider.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Sorry so long on the up-date but with the Christmas rush coming on hard and fast and me working six days as a result, I haven't really had much time to get this going. Thanks for all the nice reviews, which did help and was appriciated. In the up-coming chapters, things are going to get really interesting and I plan on introducing a character which may or may not get featured in another story at a later date._

**Chapter 17**

"Hey Maddy," Flack called from his bedroom.

Madigan stuck her head in the bedroom. "Yeah?" She was dressed in jeans and a clean _Stonewall's Gym_ work shirt, coffee in hand. She would change in to shorts when she got to the gym. Thanks to Mac and Richard Prokop, the complaint problem at work had been resolved and she'd been asked to show up to work today. Nick promised to swing by the gym before he left to head back to Las Vegas, as today was his last day in New York.

"I think we're going to have to change my eating habits again," her brother said, looking disgustedly at the belt in his pants.

"Whyzat?" she asked.

"Because I think I've lost weight but the scale is telling me I haven't, but I just had to go back a notch on my belt," he said.

"In that case, brother dear, you haven't lost weight per se. You've lost fat and replaced it with muscle."

"I wasn't fat to begin with!" he protested indignantly.

"I'm not saying you were or you are. I'm just saying that because you're eating healthier, your body is able to convert the good stuff in to muscle fuel instead of storing it as fat," she explained patiently as she move to sit on his bed. She studied him with a critical eye. "I've got to admit, you're looking pretty good."

"It doesn't feel like it, not when I've got to go back a notch on my belt," he protested.

"Put it this way, it means less fat and more muscle when you've got to do the fun job of tackling a suspect," she quipped, grinning. "Tell you what, I'll make you a bet."

"I'm listening," he said suspiciously.

"You keep eating what I'm making, cutting back on the quick-and-easy cop-food, plus add a regular exercise routine, such as weight training or kick boxing or something like that, and I bet you'll feel better and look better in one month. If I'm wrong and there's no change, I'll make you whatever you want for both lunch and dinner for the same amount of time. If I'm right, you stick to the healthy routine for another month and then watch what happens," she said, grinning.

Flack contemplated this. "Whatever I want to eat, lunch and dinner? For a month?"

"Yes, but only if there's no change in the way you feel physically and mentally. And, no cheating or all bets are off. Instead of a hotdog, go for a grilled whole-wheat panini Black Forest ham sandwich at the deli around the corner from the precinct. It costs about the same as your favorite hotdog but healthier and it tastes pretty good. Plus, they make those sandwiches to go."

"What about coffee?" he asked suspiciously.

"Right, like I'd suggest you lay off on that. I'm asking to get shot if I do that," she scoffed. "What I'm suggesting is add herbal teas to your hot beverage list, like the ones I've added to the cupboards."

"And herbal teas help how?"

"Herbal teas have lots of natural goodies in them, including stuff that will help you combat colds and flu's. They can also serve as relaxers, energizers, yada yada yada. What do you think I drink when I get home from work? It helps me unwind," Madigan said.

"Snacks?"

"Go for the cereal bars and stuff like that. They're filling and they're good for you. Oh, and those energy bars that are in the staff breakroom? Those are good too. Also, try fruits and veggie sticks."

Flack sighed heavily. It was a bet he wasn't sure he could resist, as much as he wanted to. Madigan was an excellent cook and if he won the bet, she would be cooking for him for a month. But if she won, well, she said he would have more energy and feel better, plus look better. Might impress the ladies a bit more.

_Huh. No harm in that. And if it helps me kick Danny's butt on the courts, I'm not going to object,_ he thought.

"All right, you're on. I'll agree to the conditions of the bet as you said. Just one thing, though," he said.

"What's that?"

"My pants get any looser and there's going to be a new version of Jingle Bells around, except it's going to be called _Jingle Balls,_" he said sarcastically.

Madigan nearly choked on her coffee.

_Later that day:_

Danny and Stella were on their way to a lab when they spotted Nick Stokes at a computer, studying it intently. Stella had met Nick briefly and both detectives admitted he knew his stuff, especially when it came to working night-shift, since it was apparently the main shift he worked on in Las Vegas. From a woman's point of view, Stella could see why all the women in the lab were practically salivating whenever he went by; Nick was one fine specimen of the male population, especially with his square jaw, football player build, dark eyes, and black hair. Oh, and let's not forget that smile of his, or his chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a loud cat screech, which caused both CSI's to jump, on top of a startled male yell and a _thud_ as someone hit the floor. Danny and Stella looked at each other and then stuck their head back in to the room. They found Nick on the floor, still in his chair, and looking at the ceiling with a look of disgust on his face. The computer image had changed to a particularly scary feline face and there was a laughing noise coming from the computer.

"You okay?" Danny asked, concerned.

"Oh I'm fine, just enjoying the sight of the ceiling," Nick said sarcastically as he got up off the floor and dusted himself off.

"What happened?" Stella asked, equally concerned.

"Maddy just pulled a fast one on me," Nick replied, now glaring at the computer. "She sent me this maze thing that was really tricky and I was determined to get it. Total concentration, almost had it, doing great, and then _that _thing jumps at me. I think it took ten years off my life."

Danny grinned. "Mole Maze?" he asked, recognizing the prank game.

"You know it?" Nick asked.

"Who do you think originally sent it to her?"

"Well she sent it to me," Nick said. He moved the mouse and went back to his in-box. There was a new message and it was from Madigan. He opened it and there was only one word, all in caps, but it got the point across.

"Payback. Maddy, you little twitch," Nick said, chuckling.

"What's this Mole Maze?" Stella asked, confused.

Danny grinned and said, "Nick, how about we let her play?"

Nick grinned back and quickly re-activated the game. Curious, Stella sat down and began playing. It was a tricky game where you had to use the mouse to navigate a simple maze, with one catch; you couldn't touch either side of the maze or you were done. It was a game that required total concentration. It took Stella two tries before she nearly made it to the end, and then _it_ happened.

When the cat suddenly lunged at her from the screen, followed by the screech, Stella yelped, jumped a good three inches out of her chair and nearly repeated Nick's trick of falling out the chair, much to Nick and Danny's amusement.

"You sent Maddy this?" she asked her co-worker. He grinned mischievously, which caused her to stand up and smack him in the chest. "That's for sending it to her, you jerk. No wonder she considers you her nemesis. You torment the heck out of it."

"And I love every minute of it," Danny said, grinning as he rubbed his chest from where Stella had smacked him.

"Only because she fights back," Nick said, also grinning.

"Just makes it more fun," Danny replied.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Madigan smiled to herself, lost in her own thoughts as she prepared to leave work for the day.

Nick had left for Las Vegas a week ago and had promised to send her copies of the pictures he'd taken. Now that the business with Alison Prokop and her parents was over, the killer caught, and the threat to Madigan's sanity over, he'd left, assured she would be just fine.

Sheldon had been arrested and then released due to Shane Casey, where they had all celebrated by going to Sheldon's favorite eatery, a small coffee-bar place called _Jumping Jimmy's,_ also known simply as Jay-Jay's. A Filipino woman named Rae, who was clearly very, very friendly with Sheldon, managed it. Madigan had almost mistaken her for _Pussycat Dolls_ vocalist Nicole Scherzinger; she was that pretty and had the same long black hair. They had gotten free coffee and a simple but really good meal. The eatery also had a live band and, to everyone's surprise, Sheldon had hit the dance floor with Rae, showing Rae to be an exceptional dancer and Sheldon no slouch himself. Now Madigan, Danny, and Flack were placing bets on how long it would take before Sheldon and Rae got together. _Just friends. _Yeah right, not with the gentle way Sheldon spoke to Rae, or the obvious closeness of the two, or even the way Rae's eleven-year-old nephew practically cannon-balled into Sheldon and the obvious fondness Sheldon had for the boy.

Madigan and her brother had talked to their landlord and were now in the process of moving in to a two-bedroom apartment down the hall from their one-bedroom apartment. It was a nice place and it was equally nice to have her own bedroom and sleep on a real bed, rather than the couch she'd been sleeping on since her arrival in New York. Their friends were helping where and when they could and they'd recently had a house-warming party, which had been fun in itself.

Today she'd had a pretty decent day, she was feeling pretty good, and she'd just had a fun "wrestling" session with her best friend, Dale Cochrane. They had been in the dance room that was also used for yoga sessions, dance sessions, acrobatics, and, self-defense lessons. It had a hardwood floor but there were pads that could be put on the floor for various reasons, including what should have been a simple self-defense practice session with Dale, but turned out to be a wrestling session where they spent more time giggling and teasing each other than they had actually done any practice self-defense.

There was something special developing between them, she was sure, but she wasn't in any hurry. Rather, she was content to let things develop, play things out and see where they lead. That didn't stop the tingle of pleasure she got whenever he came in to the room, smiled at her, or the way her body felt when she had close contact with him, like today.

It seemed sort of almost like a coincidence, but whenever she hung out with Dale and their other co-workers-slash-friends after work, it always seemed like they wound up sitting next to each other or being paired up together. She was sure she was imagining things but she was almost positive their co-workers were trying to set them up. Mind you, it wasn't like she had any objections and Dale certainly didn't seem to object either.

Yeah, as far as she was concerned, life was pretty good right now, especially in regards to her relationships.

Speaking of Dale, he was waiting for her. She'd grabbed a shower and since she normally took longer than he did, he'd said he'd wait for her in the lobby. They were going to join a bunch of friends for dinner since her brother was working late tonight and he always fussed when he had to work late, concerned about her being on her own. The get-together with her friends was a mutual compromise. Besides, she didn't care much for being on her own at the apartment either, even though she was used to it.

Madigan was reaching for her lipgloss in her locker when something in the dome mirror set in the upper corner of the locker room caught her attention. It was Elliot Dawson from Administration.

He was an okay-person, Madigan thought, but a bit on the geeky side with his thick glasses and shirt and tie. He had brown hair, average face, average build, and blue eyes, and was always professionally dressed in slacks and tie, even though the staff at the gym had the option of wearing a _Stonewall's _shirt. She was unfailing polite to him, dealt with him when she needed to, but that was it. He, on the other hand, seemed to go out of his way to talk to her and all that, but she wasn't really interested.

The locker room was the staff unisex locker room and all _Stonewall_ staff used it. Guy and Girl washrooms were branched off and they were complete with showers. Seeing Elliot in the locker room was no biggie, which is why she only gave him a passing glance, except to note he seemed to be wearing a rather nice suit and over-coat. She hadn't seen him at all today but that wasn't uncommon. Sometimes she didn't see him for a day or so simply because their paths didn't cross. She absently wondered what the suit was all about and then shrugged it off. She had more important things to think about than what Elliot Dawson was up to.

She quickly slashed on some lipgloss, clipped on her cellphone, shrugged into her jacket, and grabbed her purse. She slammed her locker shut, turned around….

and came face-to-face with the wrong end of a gun. Behind the gun was one Elliot Dawson and, as she watched, he pulled back the safety on the gun with a very loud, very ominous _click_ that seemed to echo through the whole room.

"We really need to talk, Madigan," Elliot said calmly.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: sorry so long on the up-date but my stomach decided to get the flu and the store's Christmas rush is giving me very little time to do much story-writting. Thanks for all the nice reviews and for those who asked, I assure you, Madigan will be just fine. However she will be undergoing some major personal trauma that will stem from this event. Call it a spiritual growth of sorts. That's all the teasers I'm going to give you guys for now. Have fun._

**Chapter 19**

The gun never wavered, nor did the look on Elliot's face change. Madigan struggled not to show her increasing nervousness as she raised her hands to hip-level. Despite all her training, she wasn't sure she could get the gun away from Elliot, not without getting shot.

"I'd rather do that without the gun in my face, Elliot," Madigan said.

"I'm sorry, Madigan, but I need to make sure you'll pay attention to me and this is the only way," Elliot replied.

"There are plenty of other ways and this particular method, well, all it's doing is pissing me off, Elliot. I don't like guns in my face," Madigan shot back. "Not only that, but Dale is waiting for me and he's patient, to a point. Then he's going to come in here and find out what's taking me so long. And when he does, he will see this situation and if you think he's going to let this slide easily then you don't know him as well as you might think, pal." By now she was glaring icicles at him. "Now, put the gun away and walk out of here or I swear, by the time I get through with your miserable little ass, you'll be in a jail cell for the next ten fucking years," she said, allowing the anger to flow through her, knowing it would give her strength.

"Threatening me doesn't work, Madigan. You will listen to me. I need for you to understand what I have to say without the distraction of Dale around," Elliot said.

"I'll listen when you put the fucking gun away," she shot back, mentally praying someone had noticed something was wrong. "Give me the slightest chance and I'll put you to the floor and you know I'm capable of it."

Jon Chen was studying his textbook on police sciences when something on one of the monitors caught his attention. Jon was a security officer for _Stonewall's Gym_ and he'd been there long enough to know there was seldom any real trouble, especially in the staff locker room.

What staff members knew, sort of, was that there was a hidden security camera behind the dome corner mirrors in the locker rooms. For privacy sakes, there was no camera in either of the washroom-showers. After a rash of locker thief's, the hidden cameras had been put in to try and catch the culprit.

All _Stonewall _staff had signed statements acknowledging that the cameras were there and it was standard procedure for all new employees to sign the same statements. But how many people actually bothered reading the fine print on employment documents? It was one of those acknowledged-but-forgotten things.

Now Jon looked closer at Camera Number Two in the staff locker room. He could see what looked like Madigan Flack and someone else he couldn't see too well due to the position of the unknown person. That was fine, but what had his blood going cold was that he could also see a gun and it was aimed at Madigan's face.

Jon didn't think; he grabbed the phone and quickly dialed 9-1-1. It looked like he had a possible hostage situation going down in the gym right now and he needed back-up, pronto.

Jerry Packard grinned at Dale. "You waiting for Maddy?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's a typical woman," Dale groused good-naturedly. "She takes forever."

Jerry chuckled. "Yeah, I know what you mean, man. I'm gonna grab a shower and head for home. I'll tell Maddy to get her rear in gear."

"Thanks, bud."

Jerry entered the locker room and called out, "Hey Maddy! You still here?"

Elliot grabbed Madigan and pressed the gun to her head. "Say _nothing_," he hissed.

Madigan wisely kept her mouth shut but she wished there was some way she could warn Jerry he was about to walk in on trouble.

"Maddy! Dale's waiting for you!" Jerry called again, looking for her, a bit concerned by the silence.

"If I don't answer, he's going to come searching," Madigan hissed to Elliot.

Her captor looked torn. This was not how things were supposed to play out, not how he'd planned things. Jerry was an unknown factor and he hated that. His life was about logic and order and following pre-set plans, routines, and patterns. Deviations from those patterns made him nervous and it scattered his thoughts. A thought came to him.

_If Jerry comes around the corner, I'm simply going to have to shoot him. I won't aim to kill but I won't let him take Madigan away from me, not before I have a chance to have her listen to me, to show her how much I love her,_ Elliot thought.

Jerry came around the corner and froze. There was Madigan with a gun to her head, held by none other than that squirrelly little dork, Elliot Dawson. Madigan looked absolutely terrified, which was understandable, and Elliot, well, he looked determined.

"Hey! Let her go!" Jerry demanded.

"Jerry," Madigan begged, "Walk out of here, please, before he does something."

"Can't do that, Maddy. Dale's waiting for you and if you don't come out, he's going to come searching for you," Jerry said, quickly sizing the situation up. He knew Madigan was a capable fighter but he also knew she was a patient fighter and something about the gun and the way it was being held against her said Elliot had it ready to fire. One wrong move and she was as good as dead. Jerry did not want that on his conscience. So it made sense that Madigan was wisely, at this point, not attempting to move or provoke her captor. Having seen her wrestle several times before, he knew she would wait until the moment was right and then she would strike and all hell would break loose.

"Jerry, leave, _now_," Elliot said. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone else but if you force my hand, I will not hesitate to shoot you."

"You're a damn pussy, you little prick," Jerry shot back, hoping to get the gun on him and give Madigan a fighting chance. "You don't have the guts to pull the trigger. I'm surprised you even _got _one. If you're such a big boy, then shoot me. Shoot me, 'cause if you don't, I'm gonna pound your skinny little ass in to the fuckin' floor, boy."

Madigan didn't know what Jerry was trying to do, now that the fear was starting to take over. Jerry was a big, strapping black man who was a weight-trainer for the gym. Yeah, he could easily take down someone like Elliot, but that wasn't the point. She was worried he might get seriously injured or killed in the process. She liked him for his easy-going nature but she also knew he had a temper, especially when it came to men threatening women. One night, some time ago, he had quietly revealed that he'd had an older sister who had been beaten to death by her abusive husband some years back and since then had been waging a quiet war against abusers.

"Jerry, _please,_" Madigan begged. "This is between me and Elliot."

"Sorry girl, but this candy-ass punk has gotta learn you don't threaten women with a gun, not around me," he growled. And with that, he charged.

There was an explosion and Jerry fell, hit by a bullet to the shoulder.

"You bastard!" Madigan yelled at Elliot, anger replacing her fear. She brought the heel of her booted foot hard against his kneecap, before scraping his shin and slamming her heel into the top half of his foot. Elliot reacted predictably and yelled in pain, letting her go. Then she spun and slammed her elbow in to his face, hearing the satisfying crunch of breaking bone as she broke his nose. Her next move was to spin and slam her foot into Elliot's groin, catching him square in the testicles. It was a kick that had a lot of anger behind it. He dropped to the floor with a yell, clutching his groin, gun still in his hand.

Madigan grabbed Jerry, who was groaning in pain and holding his shoulder. "Run, you crazy fool!" she yelled, propelling him towards the direction of the doors. Before she could get too far, somehow, _somehow_, someone grabbed her hair and yanked her back. She cried out in pain and Jerry looked back, his eyes going wide. "_Run!_" she yelled. Jerry hesitated but he took off, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

Hand gripping her hair, gun aimed at her, his face green and sweating, Elliot glared at her. "That was not nice, Madigan. You've ruined everything."

_NYPD squad room:_

Flack looked up at the SWAT officer who approached his desk. There was a look of grave concern about the man and Flack's radar went up.

"Are you Detective Don Flack?" the man asked, his nametag reading _Zellweiger_.

"I am. How can I help you?"

Zellweiger handed him a grainy picture that appeared to be a freeze-frame from a video. "Do you recognize the woman in this picture?"

Flack studied the picture and he swore his heart stopped. "That's my sister, Madigan," he said, sitting up straighter. "How did you get this? What's wrong?"

Zellweiger sighed heavily and said, "I hate to have to say this, but right now, we're getting reports of a hostage situation at _Stonewall's Gym_. There have been reports of shots fired in the staff locker room and one staff member has recently been taken to hospital to be treated for a gunshot wound to the shoulder."

"What!" Flack yelped, bolting out of his chair. "Who?" he demanded.

"A Jerry Packard. Do you know him?"

"I know of him. I know he's a friend of Maddy's but that's all. Look, where is Maddy? Is she still at the gym? Is she still being held hostage? Is she okay?"

"My last report indicates she is okay but we're having trouble spotting the captor. He's been identified, thanks to Mr. Packard but we are having trouble getting him on the camera and we're not sure how to reach Madigan," Zellweiger said.

"I do," Flack said grimly, grabbing his coat and shrugging in to it. "I'll tell you on the way there."


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: once again, many appologizes for the long-up date and many thanks for the nice reviews. I'm hoping once the Christmas rush is over, I'll have more time to do my stories, especially since I'm on the look-out for a laptop that is 95 notebook so I can type while I'm at work when it gets quiet in the evenings._

**Chapter 20**

Madigan reacted instantly by putting her hands on top of Elliot's hands and leaning forward and then moving behind him, causing him to bend his wrist in a very uncomfortable way and subsequently let go of her. She then planted a vicious kick in the side of his thigh, square on the nerve points. His reaction was to cry out and let go and she bolted for it, fear and adrenaline rushing though her.

"Madigan!" Elliot roared.

She involuntarily shrieked when he fired off a shot that ricocheted off one of the lockers as she ducked around them in a desperate bid to lose him. She recognized the gun he had as a snub nose revolver with probably five or six rounds and since he had just fired two rounds, he had maybe three or four rounds left. If she could just either reach the exit or, failing that, get him to use all of his bullets, she stood a chance of getting out of this alive. She just had to be very, _very_ careful. Who the heck knew what was going through Elliot's head right now?

Suddenly her cell phone went off. It was Bryan Adam's _Heat of the Night_, which was her brother's call signal, due to the chorus of the song. Cussing, she quickly answered the call while moving as she heard Elliot move towards her.

"Bad timing, brother," she hissed.

"_I know what's going on, Maddy, the SWAT guys let me know,_" Flack replied.

"That's nice. Now figure out how the hell to get me out of here! Fuck-head's already put Jerry in hospital and I know he's got a revolver but I don't know what kind or if he's got three or four rounds left in that thing!" she shot back.

"_Can you get him on camera?_"

"What? What camera?" she demanded.

"_There are three cameras hidden in the locker room. You've been watched since the moment Elliot pulled the gun on you._"

"Cute. Where are they?"

"_Know where the dome corner mirrors are?_"

She looked around and spotted them. "Yeah, so?"

"_One way glass is hiding them._"

"You're kidding."

"_No I'm not. That was a nice nose-smash, by the way. It broke his nose._"

"And it did me a fat lot of good when I tried to get Jerry out of there," she groused.

"_Doesn't matter. You got Jerry out of there alive; that's what counts. Listen, kiddo, SWAT is here and they've got the door barricaded. The problem we have is that we need a full shot of Elliot. We need to see what kind of weapon he has and we need to get a visual lock on him so SWAT can move in. That means getting him away from the door if you can, long enough for SWAT to get in._"

"You're asking for a fraggin' miracle, brother," she shot back. "If I can get him away from the door I'm getting the hell out of here."

"_Good idea but the problem we have is we're in a stand-off position,_" he replied calmly. "_We don't know what his intentions are, if he's going to hurt you or what, never mind why he's doing this._"

"He kept saying something about want to talk to me without the distraction of Dale and the others. He hasn't said what about, though."

"_Find out. Stall him, get him away from the door, just give SWAT a chance to get in the room and give us a chance to get him on camera._"

"Come on, Madigan, I simply want to talk to you," Elliot called from somewhere. "There's no need to play these kind of childish games."

"Childish games my Aunt Fanny," she groused, risking a peek around one corner and spotted Elliot stalking her. He was limping badly, one hand near his crotch and blood on his face. She felt a surge of satisfaction at that sight.

An idea came to her. Tucking the cell between her neck and ear, she reached in to the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a white wire with a single soft ear-bud, clip, and cord mounted microphone. Working fast, she yanked off her jacket, stuck the ear-bud in her ear, threw the cord over her shoulder so it went up her back, adjusted the clip so that it was on the back of her collar, and then said to her brother, "Going hands-free."

With that, she stuck the connector in to her cell and stuck her cell back in its holder on her pants. Then she threw her jacket back on, effectively hiding her cell.

"_And you've gone speaker_," Flack said, understanding what she'd done, and telling her that he'd switched her to a speakerphone.

"We loud and clear?"

"_Perfectly. Good thinking._"

"You're not the only one with the brains in the family," she quipped, moving again. She heard someone chuckle in the background. "Okay, I do know he's got a snub nose revolver, a tiny little thing with a bit of a barrel on it. Kinda shiny. Can't you guys get the bullet out of Jerry's shoulder and find out what type?"

"_We're working on that._"

"Those things usually have five to six shots, right?" she asked.

"_That's the standard but not always a guarantee,_" he said.

"Well, I'm placing bets Elliot got the gun off the streets so I'm placing equal bets on that thing having five to six shots. Since he's already lost two, that leaves three to four shots left."

"_Fair assumption, since we're not finding any record of Elliot having a weapon's license._"

"Madigan, come out! Enough of this!" Elliot shouted, sounding increasingly angry.

"Gonna try for a camera shot here," she said, plotting her move.

"_Waiting and watching._"

"Hey, Elliot! You want to talk? Fine! But I'll tell ya right now, I'm not going to make things easy, not after you shot Jerry!" she shouted. This whole thing was beginning to feel like a real stupid but desperate game of cat and mouse, with her as the mouse and the cat being Elliot, but instead of him having claws, he had a nasty little gun. No matter what happened, though, it was a game she intended to win.

"That was his fault!" Elliot shouted back angrily, moving towards the sound of her voice. "He shouldn't have tried attacking me! I warned him! You warned him! And yet he still chose to attack me!"

"Jerry was trying to protect me, you dumb ass!" She moved farther down, drawing him down the little corridor.

"_Little more, little more_," she heard her brother coaxing, apparently watching the camera.

"He should have left well enough alone!"

"Then you're dumber than you think! I was willing to listen to you before but after this, buddy, I'll listen when you're in a nice little six by eight room of your very own for the next couple of years!" she shot back. "There was no need for this!"

"_Got him_," Flack said. "_And I'm being told it's a possible Model 60 Smith and Wesson, which means it has five rounds._"

"So he's got three rounds left," Madigan concluded, just as Elliot shouted again.

"All I wanted was for you to listen, Madigan, for you to understand!"

"Understand what?" she shot back, taking a chance and dashing across a mini-corridor in a strategic move to try and get close to the door.

"How much I love you!"

Madigan froze. "That's a new one," she told her brother.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: again, sorry so long on the up-date but for those who check them out, I recently did a trio of Christmas stories that were nagging at me to be written. I will try and up-date this and my other stories, now that I've gotten past what I consider the more difficult part of the story. For now, read, review, and enjoy! Thanks._

**Chapter 21**

"Okay, smartass, just how do you propose I get out of this?" Madigan hissed to her brother.

"_Start by listening to him,_" Flack shot back. "_Use that mouth of yours to find out why he professes to love you._"

"Can you hear what he's saying?"

"_We've got a mike in the room now so yeah, we can. And, just to really help you, we've got a SWAT negotiator here._"

"Great, glad to hear that. Now someone kindly tell me what the hell I'm supposed to say," Madigan snapped. "I want to get out of this alive and I want to go to _Sullivan's_ for something to eat, damnit, like I was supposed to before Butt-head here interrupted my damn plans!"

"_We all have bad days,_" Flack replied easily.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, you have bad days too, Mr. Chase-A-Suspect-In-A-Brand-New-Suit-And-Land-On-Your-Ass," she shot back, mind going ninety-miles an hour as she tried to plot her next move. She heard a chuckle in the background.

"Madigan!" Elliot shouted.

"I heard you the first time! Jay-esus, boy, let a girl get her wind back, will ya?" Madigan shouted back, moving down the row of lockers. "Not every day a girl gets an admission of love from a guy!"

"_Smooth move,_" an unfamiliar male voice said in Madigan's ear via her cell.

"You live on the streets for six years, bub, you learn to think one step ahead of your opponent, although I'm hoping Elliot isn't bright enough to realize I'm playing chess with him, 'cause if he is, I'll have to switch games," Madigan muttered. "Now shaddup and let me think."

"_Want some advice?_" the man asked.

"If it gets me out of here alive, I'm listening."

"_Get him talking about his love. How long has he loved you, why does he love you and why did it take him so long to admit to it._"

"Gotta start somewhere." Madigan thought for a moment. Then she hollered, "Hey Elliot, look, I'm flattered by the admission from you and all that, don't get me wrong, but I don't understand; why do you love me of all people? God knows I'm no angel." She stuck her head around a corner cautiously. "Eyes in the sky, where's Butt-head?" she muttered.

"_About two rows to your left,_" Flack replied. "_And moving towards you, limping._"

"You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect," Elliot called back.

Madigan groaned silently. "I'm not perfect, Elliot, I've got flaws. I left home at eighteen because I was constantly fighting with my parents. I've made mistakes. I've got scars from those mistakes and memories. No, Elliot, I'm sorry but I'm not the angel you make me out to be."

"Don't say that!" Elliot shouted. "I've watched you, day in and day out! You're nothing like the other girls here! You're kind, you're never rude, and you can go to toe with the best of them and never break a sweat!"

"_You're right behind him,_" Flack said.

Sure enough...

"Comes from having a cop for a brother, Elliot," Madigan said quietly, watching as Elliot spun around to face her. She leaned against the locker, crossed her arms over her chest, and tucked one ankle behind the other in a very casual pose. "Not only that, but after living on the streets for six years, bouncing around from state to state, not much scares me, especially other cops."

Elliot's face was bloody from his broken nose and he was beginning to sport some rather nasty black eyes. He was also limping thanks to Madigan's kick to his thigh and groin. Madigan raised an eyebrow at her handiwork.

"Here's the thing, Elliot; right now, you are in very, very serious trouble," Madigan said. "I can think of several charges that will be laid against you right off the bat, one of them being assault with a weapon and kidnapping."

"I didn't kidnap you!" Elliot protested.

"Kidnapping is defined as forcible confinement," she reminded him. "You held a gun to me and insisted that I was going to listen to you."

"I just wanted you to listen to me," he protested weakly. "I just wanted you to understand how much I love you."

"But you went about it the wrong way, bud. Holding a gun on someone just to get them to listen, that's not the way to go about doing things."

"Would you have listened to me?" he demanded.

"I would have given you a fair hearing, but I would have eventually turned you down. You're sweet in your own way but you're not my type, I'm afraid."

"You could have given me a chance! You're young, like me! You're not old enough to know what your 'type' is!"

"And you, who are two years older than me, you know?"

"I know what I want and I want you!" The gun wavered but then it straightened as a thought came to his mind. "I could force you to love me. I could threaten to hurt your brother if you didn't love me."

Madigan's eyebrows shot up at this.

"_Maddy, be very careful. This is thin ice you're on here,_" Flack warned.

"_You need to convince him to give you the gun and surrender himself to SWAT,_" the man said. "_Tell him that we will take his cooperation in to consideration when laying charges against him. We have him surrounded but as long as he has the gun trained on you, we don't dare take the risk of taking him out without you being seriously injured or killed in the process._"

Madigan chose her next words with care. What she really wanted to do was laugh in Elliot's face but she knew that was asking for trouble.

"You can't force someone to love you, Elliot. It just doesn't work that way. All that does is create resentment, anger, and more trouble than what the whole situation is worth," Madigan replied. "Love has to be earned, not forced, and I'm sorry but I can't and won't put myself through a situation like that." She went silent for a moment, as if thinking. "Tell you what; you give me the gun and we'll walk out of here together. Maybe the police will take things in to consideration if you cooperate with them." She unfolded herself from her position and slowly moving towards him, one hand out towards him.

Elliot felt as if his whole world was crashing down around him. The girl he loved, the girl he'd give anything for, she didn't love him and he knew that after this, she never would. She was not the kind of girl to stand by idly while those she cared about got hurt. It had been stupid to threaten her brother. Hell, this whole thing had been stupid. Madigan was right; there was always another option. This had been the wrong option, even though his parents had always encouraged him to go after what he wanted. Well, he'd wanted Madigan; he'd worshiped her, and look where it had gotten him; a whole world of trouble that was going to take him a lifetime to get out of.

Elliot had always been a quiet boy growing up, with doting parents who encouraged him in everything he tried, encouraged him to go after what he wanted in life. He'd been an average student in both high school and college, mostly majoring in computer courses and accounting. No girl had ever really interested him, not until Madigan had come along.

Madigan, sweet Madigan, with her easy smile, sensual grace in everything she did, beautiful body that he knew came from her love of climbing and weight-training, her quick wit that could make one laugh or cut one down just as easily, and her rock-solid determination in everything she did. She was beautiful and he had worshiped the very ground she walked on.

He'd tried being friendly, tried getting to know her better with friendly chat, but she never seemed to slow down long enough. Instead, she would smile politely, answer his questions, and keep on going. He would hate her if it weren't for the fact that she was so damn polite to him.

And now everything was coming down around his ears. She was right; he was in very serious trouble, especially for shooting Jerry. And the gun? Well, when they found out he'd bought the gun off of the streets from some unknown guy one day late at night some weeks back, there would be even more serious trouble for him. He knew the police didn't take too kindly to illegal weapons, especially if you had one without a license. And Detective Flack? When he got wind that his baby sister had been Elliot's hostage, he knew the ice-blue eyed detective would try and nail his sorry hide to the proverbial floor, partially as a brother and partially as a cop; Elliot would expect no less, not after having seen brother and sister together and seen their interaction. He knew Flack was very protective of Madigan, just as Madigan was protective of her brother.

He was out of options. Sure, he could surrender his weapon to Madigan and surrender himself to the cops, but he'd still have to live with the humiliation of having done what he'd done. After all, for every action there was an equal reaction. He'd have to face the consequences of his actions and he wasn't so sure he could do that. He'd heard stories about what happened to guys like him in prison, horror stories that could curdle one's blood.

_Just one bullet and it would be over. That's all it would take, just one bullet._

Tears began to roll down his face as he pulled back the hammer of the little gun and the bullet chamber rotated, putting another bullet in to the barrel. Madigan froze. That hurt him. Didn't she know he would never hurt her? Ever? He loved her so much but his love was not enough. _Not enough._

"I'm sorry, Madigan," he whispered. "So sorry. Forgive me, please."

And with that, he brought the gun up and fired. He never even heard Madigan's scream.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: this is Madigan's POV. Thanks for the kind reviews and I hope to do another chapter in the near future. Keep reading and keep watching!_

**Chapter 22**

I bolt awake, my screams echoing through my mind as, once again, Elliot fires his gun and his brain explodes. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might explode through my chest and I'm breathing hard.

I take a couple of deep breaths to try and calm down and then flop back down on the bed, wiping my sweaty forehead.

It's been over a week since Elliot killed himself in front of me in the locker room. His funeral was three days ago. I didn't attend the service but I did visit his gravesite afterwards. I didn't know what to say so I said nothing and simply left a rose on his gravesite. I couldn't face his family, especially knowing that they're blaming me for what happened. I'm the girl who led sweet, harmless Elliot to kill himself. It's my fault, they say. Elliot loved me and I was too selfish to try and return that love.

But Don says it's not my fault; that I did everything I could, given the circumstances. I'm not a trained negotiator; I'm just a young woman who happened to be the focus of Elliot's misguided love. Even the SWAT negotiator said I did the best I could. I got Jerry out of there alive, before things could get worse for him. _I _got out of there alive and, according to them, that's all that matters.

But what about Elliot? I ask. Didn't he matter? They say he did matter but that it was his choice to make the final move and there was nothing I, or anyone else for that matter, could have done. They say that Elliot's final decision came so fast no one had any warning even though everyone was prepared for the worst.

I get out of bed, grab my robe, and head for the kitchen, knowing I won't be able to sleep again for the rest of the night, thanks to the nightmare. I grab a cup of coffee from the coffee maker and stick it in the microwave.

I haven't been eating well, I know. I haven't been sleeping well either. My boss gave me a week off to recover from the whole thing. He even gave me the number of a counselor that he said specializes in incidents like mine. Like I care? I just want to forget. Forget everything.

Don's tried talking to me about what happened but I shut him out. I tell him I'm fine, that I'm dealing with it. I'll get over it. Cops do, soldiers do, don't they? They have to or they wouldn't be able to do their jobs, right? Besides, Don's got enough on his plate as it is, without worrying about his baby sister trying to deal with the memories of a hostage situation gone bad.

The truth is, I want to talk to Don about Elliot but I don't know how. I don't know what to say, how to express how I'm feeling. So I simply say nothing at all. I'll tell him when I'm ready, whenever the hell that is.

The whole thing is flippin' nuts. I don't know what to do, what to think anymore. I keep replaying the last few moments in my mind, wondering what I could have done differently, wondering if I should have said this or that and whether or not it would have made any difference in the outcome.

I keep hearing the gunshot, like an echo that won't go away. I hate it.

Stupid thing is, I never actually _saw_ Elliot shoot himself. I remember seeing him pull back the hammer on the gun, seeing him raise it and feeling my heart start really pounding. I remember hearing Don shout something and I remember hearing Elliot say he was sorry but I don't remember anything after that, except someone in black body armor slamming into me and me hitting the floor. All I really remember is screaming my head off.

Don told me that SWAT had managed to get close to us thanks to my maneuvering and when Elliot raised the gun, an officer by the nickname of Bulldozer saw what he thought was going to happen and tackled me, turning his back towards the gun because he was wearing bulletproof armor, to try and stop the possible bullet from hitting me. Had Elliot actually shot at me, Bulldozer would have effectively saved my life. But Bulldozer didn't count on Elliot shooting himself. Don said no one counted on that.

I'm feeling restless, so I get dressed. I know there's only one real cure for my restlessness. I don't care about the fact that it's late at night, almost three a.m. I'm going to hit the subways and wander the tunnels for a while, see where I wind up. Yeah, it's dangerous, but I don't care. What's a little risk, huh?


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: This is from Flack's point of view. It takes place several days after Chapter 22, just so we're clear on things, lol. And Merry Christmas to all and to all, good night._

**Chapter 23**

Good god, what the hell is going on with Maddy? I just got word from Danny that he'd seen Maddy in the Pelham Bay Park area, riding the Number 6 Subway line, which is fine, but at _3 a.m. in the goddamn morning_? Is she out of her damn _mind_? That is frigging dangerous, especially for an attractive young woman like her!

It's been about two weeks since I rushed over to _Stonewall's Gym_ to find Maddy being held hostage by Elliot Dawson and then watched as Elliot shot himself. Since then Maddy's undergone a bit of a personality change.

She forgets that as a cop, I don't miss much; I'm trained not to. I've noticed the change in her sleeping patterns, in her eating habits and her dress habits. I've seen her wear the same pair of pants and shirt for three days in a row. She takes a shower just as often. I've seen her sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. She's become quiet, withdrawn. She won't talk to me about what happened, saying we already know what happened. After all, we have video evidence and physical evidence. Isn't that enough? she asks. Leave it alone, she says. She claims she's 'handling' the situation. That's bullshit. She's not.

When I try to ask about Elliot, she withdraws. She _needs_ to talk about what happened. But she won't. She gets defensive, says she's dealing with it just fine. She doesn't need help, she says. When she said something about how cops deal with shit like that all the time, I shot back that yeah, we do but we also make damn sure we talk about it afterwards. Why? Because if we don't, it can eat us up inside, destroy us. We may be cops but we're still human, I told her. We still hurt and we still grieve every time someone dies.

"What makes you think I'm grieving?" she'd shot back.

I remember just looking at her and raised one eyebrow with my classic _Oh-Yeah? _look.

"Maybe I'm glad the bastard's dead," she'd said. "If he hadn't killed himself, I would have beaten the shit out of him for what he did to Jerry, for what he did to me."

"Why don't I believe that?" I'd asked.

"Believe what you want, I don't care. I don't fraggin' care."

_Bullshit, baby sister, bullshit_, I thought, watching as she walked away from me again. She'd been doing that a lot as of late, the walking part.

Now Danny's telling me Maddy's been seen in some of the more dangerous parts of New York at night. Not only that, but her friend, Dale, tells me she's been seen climbing without her safety gear. And a couple of beat cops have spotted her on some overpasses, balancing on the edges of the bridge guards at night. I raised supreme hell about that one and she just shrugged, like it was no big deal.

"What's life without a little risk, huh?" she'd said, shrugging.

I know Elliot's family is blaming her for his suicide, which is complete bullshit. They claim he was a sweet boy with no history of violence, which is true, from what I was told. But the fact still remains that he got his hands on an illegal weapon, injured a man, threatened Maddy and held her hostage, then killed himself. Why, no one has any idea.

Elliot's family called her selfish, a broad with her nose so high in the air she couldn't see a good thing when it was right in front of her, and according to them, Elliot was better than most of the other guys at the gym, especially Dale, who was quite friendly with Maddy. There were rumors and gossip circulating about Maddy's relationship with Dale, suggesting that the two of them might eventually wind up as more than friends. And then there were the rumors about Elliot's puppy-love in regards to Maddy, how he practically worshiped the very ground she walked on. But according to Elliot's family, he was deeply in love with Maddy. They say Maddy's refusal to give Elliot's 'pure' love a chance is what led to his desperate actions and his suicide.

Then, on top of all that, yesterday Maddy was served. It seems the Dawson family found a shark lawyer and is suing Maddy for Wrongful Death of Elliot and they're asking upwards of five million. She damn near punched out the guy who served her the papers.

Me? I put in a call to the union lawyer and explained the situation. He agreed to handle the situation as a favor, doing it pro bono. He was pretty confident, based on all the evidence we had, that the judge would toss the whole case right out the damn door.

And what's making everything harder? Despite what I've told Maddy, despite what everyone I know has told her, she still doesn't believe that Elliot's suicide wasn't her fault.

I sigh heavily as I sit at my desk, wondering how the hell I can reach my sister. I'm a cop, a detective and a veteran of the force. I've interrogated some of the toughest and worst criminals to ever step in the NYPD squad room, seen enough horrors to give any sane man nightmares, and I don't know how to help my baby sister. I just don't know what to do.

Logic says that if you don't know what to do or if you don't have the answers, you find someone who does. But who could I talk to? Who would know what to do? What to say? Would a doctor know? What about someone who's been there, done that?

I find myself in Mac's office before I realize I'm there. Ironically, Sheldon's there as well and so is Danny. That's fine; I trust all three of 'em with my life. Between the four of us, I should be able to figure out what to do.

After shutting the doors, I tell them about Maddy's behavior, about what she's said and done, backed by Danny admitting where he'd seen Maddy.

"I hate to say this, Don, but it sounds like Maddy is going through a combination of Survivor's Guilt and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome," Sheldon said.

"I don't understand," I said.

"She's blaming herself for Elliot's death, which is a classic sign of Survivor's Guilt. You said she keeps wondering what she could have done differently to prevent Elliot from killing himself when we've all told her that there was nothing she could have done," Sheldon said. I nodded. "You also said she's not sleeping well, eating well, and, from the sounds of it, starting to take some dangerous risks. That's a classic sign of PTSS."

"What do I do? She won't talk to me, won't see a counselor, anything that might help her get through this," I said.

"Then you may have to take some pretty serious measures," Mac said. "It may get to the point where you may have to force her to confront the incident and I'll warn you right now, you may not like what you have to do."

"From the sounds of it, Maddy's starting to take a lot of risks," Danny said. "Dangerous risks that could lead to potentially serious injuries to herself."

"Is she trying to kill herself, do you think?" I asked.

"I don't think so," Mac said. "I think what's going on is Maddy's trying to feel something, anything, other than what she does feel, which can range from a sense of emptiness to a sense of what may feel like never-ending despair. She's reached a point where a bit of pain is worth a bit of risk."

"So she doesn't care what happens to her?" I asked.

"It's not that she doesn't care, it's that she doesn't understand what happened and why," Danny said. "Face it, man, someone shot himself right in front of her. She doesn't know how she's supposed to handle it and Maddy's used to taking care of herself. Her Fight-Or-Flight instinct kicked in and she chose to fight, except Elliot didn't give her much of a fight; he took the easy way out so she's left with the Fight instinct, only she's got nobody left to fight."

"You can't fight a dead man," I conceded.

"And Elliot's family isn't helping by blaming her," Sheldon said.

"What do I do, guys? Maddy is literally asking to get hurt and seriously," I said. "I've already attended one funeral this month, I don't want to attend another, especially hers."

"Then you may have to have her put in hospital and listed as a Form 10 patient, which is someone who is a danger to themselves," Sheldon said. "She would be medically confined and forced to see a psychiatrist, who would evaluate her and determine her mental state of mind. As her brother, Don, you would be within your rights to do this. As a matter of fact, I would encourage it."

"She would hate my guts," I said.

"That's what I meant about you may having to do something you won't like but it would be for her own good," Mac said.

"How would I go about doing this, since she won't voluntarily go to the hospital," I asked.

"She would have to be spotted by police doing something dangerous to herself. Then the cops would arrest her, call an ambulance, and have her transported to the hospital for psychiatric care. The cops involve would have to have her listed as a Form 10 and you, as her brother, would have to agree to have her listed as such," Sheldon said. "I'll tell you right now, though, there's a chance she may fight you."

"But it would help her?" I asked. All three guys nodded. "Then I'll do it."

"In that case, I'll make a call that will have a BLO put on her for dangerous behavior to herself. Once she's been spotted and brought in, you'll be notified and we can take things from there," Sheldon said. "As both a doctor and a member of the NYPD, I can do it."

"And the Wrongful Death suit?" I asked.

"You said yourself that Phillips is saying the judge is likely to throw the suit out of court so I wouldn't worry about it," Mac said. "We will, however, make sure Phillips has all the access to the evidence that he needs and I think we should warn him that Maddy may not make things any easier. The faster the suit is thrown out, the better."

I nodded again then sighed tiredly, rubbing my eyes. I haven't been sleeping too well either, worried about Maddy.

"I'm just so damn worried about her," I admitted. "She's a good kid, she didn't deserve this and now, because of some bozo's misguided love of her, she's being put through more hell than what she deserves. I'll do whatever it takes to get that laughing, energetic, loving kid sister of mine back. She's my kid sister and I'm her brother; we're supposed to look out for each other and if it means hauling her ass to a hospital and forcing her to see a shrink, then I'll do it."

"Well, I tell you one thing, man," Danny said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Maddy is one damn lucky kid," Danny said. "She's got you for a brother."

"She's my sister and I care about her," I said. "It's the way things should be."

"Exactly," Sheldon said.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: wow, I guess my beloved Muse is finally moseying on back. Thanks for all the nice reviews and I hope you all managed to survive the Boxing Day rush._

**Chapter 24**

"I said _no comment!_" Madigan snapped, shoving Russell Edwards microphone out of her face.

Russell was a reporter from the _New York Nosehound_, a small newspaper that was devoted to unearthing scandals, secrets, and conspiracy theories on everyone and anyone, and public figures were prime targets. Madigan was guessing the Dawson family had set him on her because lowlifes like him normally left people like her alone. However, it was her connection to the NYPD and the whole Incident that had apparently really caught Russell's attention. After all, cops were public figures and the families of cops were just as public as a result.

Ever since the court case involving Elliot's family suing her for Wrongful Death started, he'd been hounding her, convinced that the police had covered up what had really happened, just like the Dawson's were.

Due to investigation procedures, the family had not been permitted to see the security tapes from the Incident or any of the reports from the various officers and personnel involved. All they had been permitted to see was Elliot's body for formal identification and a formal notice that Elliot's death had been ruled as a suicide and that the Debriefing investigation had concluded that everything possible had been done to prevent Elliot's suicide, that his suicide had been a completely unknown and unpredictable factor.

As far as Madigan was concerned, Russell was a jerk and the Dawson family was being difficult as well. On the advice of her lawyer, she was refusing to talk to Russell, using the line "No comment" every time he asked her about the Incident and/or the suit. Jake Heckadon, the lawyer, told her that talking to Russell could actually damage the suit, make things appear far worse than what they actually were. As it was, Jake was gathering up the evidence to convince the judge to drop the suit and, at best, have the Dawson's pay for the legal costs.

As for Russell, on Jake's advice, she was having the paperwork for a restraining order done up against him that would prevent him from coming within a hundred yards of her. But the problem was, the more Madigan refused to talk to Russell, the more he hounded her, convinced she had something to hide. And the paperwork for the restraining order took a bit of time. However, Jake assured her that the moment Russell had been served, she would be getting a phone call from him, letting her know.

Now it was eight o'clock at night and she was walking through Times Square in some of the darker, quieter parts and Russell had just confronted her yet again.

"I'm not going to go away, Madigan. You're hiding something and I'm going to find out what it is," Russell shot back.

Madigan felt her temper began to boil. Fighting to keep her hands to herself, as she had been advised, she snarled, "I said _no comment_. Leave me alone or I will nail your ass with a restraining order so fast the ink will still be wet when you get it!"

"I'll believe it when I see it," Russell shot back. "You're the sister of a cop and cops always have something to hide. So do their families. Elliot Dawson was ruled a suicide but why aren't we allowed to see the tapes? Makes me wonder if you really did have a hand in his so-called suicide."

Russell was on the ground so fast it was unreal, with pain exploding in the side of his face. Madigan stood above him, her right hand clenched and everything about her radiated cold anger.

"You just hit me!" he realized.

"This is your last warning, Russell Edwards. Leave me the hell alone!" Madigan snapped. And with that, she stormed off.

Russell sat up, shaking his head and holding his now-throbbing jaw. An idea came to him and he started to smile, but it was a cold, calculating smile. "I'll get you, you bitch, see if I don't. You think I'm trouble now, you ain't seen _nothin'_ yet."

As he began to plot, he failed to see the glint from the lens of a camcorder, watching everything.

_Twenty-four hours later:_

"Run that one by me again please," Madigan said, crossing her arms and raising one eyebrow at the cops, Officer Strafford and Officer Yohanson. She had just been informed that she was being accused of aggravated assault and the incident was under investigation.

The two officers had shown up at her workplace and had asked to speak to her quietly. She had complied and had been informed of the accusation.

"Are you familiar with a guy by the name of Russell Edwards?" Strafford asked. She was a tall, slim woman with short blonde hair who reminded Madigan of Tasha Yar from _Star Trek: The Next Generation_.

"All too well," Madigan said. "What of him?"

"He's claiming you beat him severely in the early hours of the morning this morning," Yohanson, a short, stocky black man, said. "Do you deny or confirm this accusation?"

Madigan snorted in disgust. "Depends on if severely beating him involves planting my fist in the side of his face. Yeah, I hit him but I left him in one piece and that was around eight p.m. in the vicinity of Times Square."

"What was the cause of the incident?" Strafford asked, making a note of Madigan's comment.

"Do you know who Edwards works for?" Madigan asked. Both officers shook their heads. "Ever heard of the _New York Newshound_?" With looks of disgust coming across their faces, they nodded. "He works for them. He's on my ass because he figures there's more to the hostage-suicide incident involving Elliot Dawson, which happened about three weeks ago at this location."

"I remember hearing about the incident. By any chance, are you related to Detective Don Flack?" Yohanson asked.

"He's my brother," Madigan confirmed.

"Thought the last name sounded familiar," Yohanson said.

"Don's a popular fellow. Anyway, I'm minding my own business, Edwards shows up, yet again, shoves a mike in my face despite my constant 'no comment' line and then suggests that the NYPD is covering up what really happened because I'm the sister of a cop," Madigan said. "I lost my temper and I hit him. Once. I then warned him that if he came near me again, he'd have a restraining order shoved up his ass so fast the ink would still be wet when he got it, or something along those lines but definitely the mention of the restraining order."

"Have you warned him to leave you alone before?" Strafford asked.

"Several times. In fact, that restraining order crack was not a bluff. I've got the paperwork being put in order via my lawyer and I started it about three days ago. My lawyer assured me the moment Edwards was served, I would be notified," Madigan said. She thought for a moment and then said, "Look, I can prove I only hit Edwards once."

"That would be helpful," Yohanson said.

"Know what a UV filter photograph is?" Both officers nodded. "Have one done of the back of my hands. If I only hit Edwards once, there will be bruising on the knuckles of my right hand only."

Both officers looked at each other and nodded. They knew where Madigan's line of thinking was going. Russell Edwards had shown up at the NYPD with some very nasty bruises on both sides of his face. It was very, very difficult to hit someone on both sides of the face with only one hand, especially in an anger-fueled beating. The person who actually beat Edwards would have bruising on their knuckles on _both_ hands.

"Also, I'm not wearing it now but I was wearing it when I hit Edwards; I was wearing a heavy gold signet ring with the symbol of St. Michael on the ring on my right hand. That's gonna leave a very distinctive mark on his face. I'm placing bets that CSI is only going to find that mark on Edward's face once and that's in the jaw area," Madigan said. She raised her right hand and on the third proximal phalanx bone, other wise known as her index finger, was a dark bruise where a ring would normally sit. "Bone bruise. Smarts like a bitch."

"Would do. Do you have the ring with you?" Yohanson said while Strafford flinched at the sight.

"In my locker. Good timing on your part because I'm just about finished my shift and I don't have any more classes for the day. I'll go get it and then I'll go to the crime lab with you and we can do the photographs," Madigan said. "What say?"

"If you're willing to cooperate with us, we're willing to cooperate with you," Strafford said, relaxing as she realized Madigan was prepared to help them as much as she could.

"Just one small thing?" she asked hesitantly.

"What's that?" Yohanson asked.

"Can we avoid running in to my brother, please? He would try and get involved in this and I don't want that," Madigan said. "Also, grab a CSI from swing-shift that isn't Detective Mac Taylor, Stella Bonasera, Danny Messer, Lindsey Monroe, or Sheldon Hawkes because I know them through my brother."

"Thanks for the warning," Yohanson said, realizing what Madigan was doing; she was trying to prevent a compromise in the chain of custody because of her association with the mentioned CSI's. If Russell Edwards was lying, any evidence gathered needed to be completely unbiased and able to stand up in court, if it came to that.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: yup, my Muse is back!_

**Chapter 25**

As Madigan had predicted, the UV filter photographs showed only one set of bruises on her hands and they were located on the knuckles of her left hand. Also, as Madigan had predicted, the St. Michael's mark had shown up only once on Russell Edwards; on the left side of his face, which was consistent with someone having hit him with a right-handed punch. A fist comparison showed that someone with a much bigger fist had assaulted Edwards after Madigan had struck him.

The DNA part, taken from Madigan's ring, would take a few days but Yohanson and Strafford weren't too concerned. As far as they were concerned, they had sufficient evidence that proved Edwards had been lying through his front teeth about his assault.

Then, to everyone's surprise, an envelope had arrived at the NYPD with a note attached, giving it to the officers involved in Madigan's investigation. The envelope had contained a DVD and verified Madigan's claim that she'd punched Edwards and left him. It seemed Madigan had a bit of an admirer, a teenage girl who thought Madigan was the very epitome of 'coolness' and was attempting to learn everything she could about Madigan's particular style, both dress-wise and body-wise. The unknown teenage girl, in her note, had expressed concern that Edwards might attempt to press charges against Madigan for the assault, had seen and heard Edwards at the police station earlier that day, and was hoping the video would be in Madigan's favor. She had followed Madigan one night with her camcorder and witnessed Edward's harassment and the subsequent result. The camcorder had also picked up his comment about getting even with Madigan. That had been enough for the officers to officially drop Edwards' assault charges against her.

While the process had been going on, Madigan had received a phone call that told her Edwards had been served with restraining order papers. The officers had checked the system and verified it. Now Edwards could not come within a hundred yards of Madigan or he would be arrested on violation of that restraining order.

At the front desk of the squad room, Madigan had just finished filling out the rest of the paperwork when a noise caught her attention. She looked up and both officers would comment on the cold smile that crossed her face and entered her icy blue eyes.

"There she is!" Russell Edwards yelled, pointing at her as he entered the squad room. He was indeed a bit of a mess with molted bruises on his face, one eye nearly swollen shut, and one arm in a sling. "That's the bitch that assaulted me! I want her charged!"

Nearby, Yohanson looked at his partner and asked quietly, "Do we interfere or do we let the ass hang himself?"

Strafford thought about that for a moment and then said, just as quietly, "Well, he's already up on charges of falsifying a police report and lying to the police, as well as creating a false charge. That's about five to ten right there. Violating a restraining order as badly as he is, that's another two years on top of it. Let's see what Madigan does but I'm all for letting him hang himself. Give anyone enough rope, especially an idiot like him…."

"Got it."

Meanwhile, Edwards had proceeded to get right in to Madigan's face. "You miserable little bitch! All I wanted to do was to talk to you! You sure as hell have a funny way of saying 'go away'!"

Madigan didn't say a word. If anything, she smiled wider, reminding the officer at the desk of a shark with his prey in sight.

"I want an apology!" Edwards demanded. "And I might, just _might_ consider dropping the charges!"

Finally Madigan spoke but it was in a low, quiet, even tone. "Russell, I'm assuming you're not stupid, right? I mean, you probably had to attend college and get a degree in journalism to work at a paper like the _New York Newshound_, right?"

"So?" Edwards snapped back.

"I received a phone call about an hour ago that said you had been served with a restraining order, one that said you had to stay about a hundred yards away from me," Madigan said.

Curious, the officer behind the desk quickly checked the system. Sure enough, Madigan did indeed have a restraining order against Edwards and now he was violating it left, right, center, and three ways to Sunday.

"So? Isn't that restraining order void when a bitch like you gets charged?" Edwards demanded.

Madigan smiled even wider, her eyes going even colder. "That's what you think. As a matter of fact, Russell, the NYPD has decided that they will be charging someone today but it won't be me."

"And that, I believe, is our cue," Strafford said, taking out her cuffs. "Mr. Edwards, you are being charged with violating a restraining order, falsifying a police report, creating false charges, compromising evidence, conspiracy to commit a crime, and lying to the police."

"What!" Edwards yelled, his face going red despite the bruises. "You can't do this! Madigan Flack assaulted me!"

"What makes you think that just because you claim it, it's so?" Madigan asked. "You forgot a little thing called 'evidence', Russell, and all the evidence is saying you're lying about the assault. Yes, I admit, I belted you, _once_, but in light of your charges, I think a judge is going to take a much dimmer view of you."

Edwards was lead away, yelling and cussing.

"Maddy, what did you do this time?" came Flack's quiet voice as he joined her.

"Not a damn thing except tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," Madigan replied calmly, looking at her brother.

"What's going on?" Flack asked.

"Again, nothing, except that I've now got one less pesky problem in my life, namely in the form of Russell Edwards," Madigan said. "Idiot tried to have me charged with assault, except the evidence came and bit him in the ass." She grinned. "Now _he's_ being charged with numerous charges, including violating his restraining order. Give Strafford and Yohanson about an hour and you can read their report. In the mean time, I'm hungry, which means I'm gonna go eat. Catch ya." And with that, Madigan sashayed out of the building, leaving her brother, hands on his hips, staring after her, worry in his eyes.

_A few hours later:_

"I don't fraggin' believe it!" Danny exploded as Flack related to his friends what he'd learned from Strafford and Yohanson about Edwards' attempt to charge Madigan. "All this over that stupid suicide incident?"

"That's what Edwards is claiming. He thinks we're hiding something because we're not releasing the gym videos to the public or to Elliot Dawson's family," Flack said. "He got in Maddy's face once too often and she clobbered him."

"What's the evidence saying?" Stella asked.

"Evidence is backing Maddy. She only hit him once and she walked away. Someone else much bigger than Maddy did the rest of it," Flack said.

"How is she handling everything?" Lindsey asked.

"She keeps trying to tell me everything is fine but she's lost weight and she's still having nightmares and she's been going out a lot at night and not coming back until the early hours of the morning," Flack admitted. "Sheldon, Mac, and Danny are all saying she's showing the classic signs of both Survivor's Guilt and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. There's a BLO on her for dangerous behavior to herself but nobody's seen anything yet."

"Is she talking?" Mac asked.

"She is, but not about what needs to be said," Flack said. "She's refusing to even mention Elliot Dawson's name, talk about the Wrongful Death suit, except to say that our lawyer says he's got a handle on it. She won't even tell me where she's been at night, just says she was 'wandering'."

"That's dangerous for a girl like her," Sheldon said.

"Don't I know it. I'm starting to wonder if I should get my funeral suit dry-cleaned again because I keep getting this horrible feeling that says I'm going to be wearing it again," Flack admitted. "I spoke to Dale, her friend at the gym; he mentioned Maddy's been taking a lot of dangerous risks in regards to her climbing, like not wearing her safety gear when she's climbing and doing it when she thinks she's alone, that sort of stuff."

"But Maddy's always been a very cautious person," Lindsey said.

"Well, that caution has gone right out the window," Flack said grimly. "And I'm afraid one day she's going to follow."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Mac said.


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Mac's Girl, thanks for the suggestion and trust me, next chapter, it will be used. Love it when my readers offer suggestions like that as it helps._

**Chapter 26**

"Let me go!" Madigan yelled, struggling against the paramedics and the cops. "Damnit, I haven't done anything!"

"Ma'am, you are becoming a danger to yourself," the female officer snapped, struggling to assist the paramedics in restraining Madigan. "We've had a BLO for dangerous behavior to yourself out on you for the last week and a half."

"So! It's my life, I can do as I damn well please!" Madigan snapped. She was putting up a valiant fight but the problem was, her body was tired from lack of proper nourishment and sleep and she was rapidly loosing the fight. "What the hell are you going to do to me?" she demanded as one paramedic quickly tightened the last wrist cuff and she was loaded just as quickly in to the waiting ambulance.

"You'll be taken to the nearest hospital with a physiatric unit and you will be listed as a Form 10 patient," the second officer said.

"Form 10 patient, what the fuck is that?" Madigan demanded.

"Someone who's a danger to themselves," the paramedic explained, his ears ringing from Madigan's yelling. "Once there, you will be evaluated by a doctor and your condition may or may not change, it depends."

"On?" Madigan demanded as the cops closed the ambulance doors and one paramedic got in the driver's seat.

"On what the doctor thinks," the first paramedic said, taking her vitals. "And that depends on what the officers tell him, as well as your family."

"And the only guy I'm on any real speaking terms would be my beloved brother," Madigan snarled.

"We'll need his information," the paramedic said.

"Don't bother, he's a cop. I'm sure my _fine friends_ out there will be getting ahold of him in the near future," Madigan snarled, going silent.

Madigan could not believe this; she was being trussed up like a damn turkey and taken to the nearest hospital where there was an available head-shrink, simply because she was 'exhibiting dangerous behavior to herself'. What a fucking joke.

A few hours ago, everything had been fine. Edwards had been charged with numerous charges stemming from his little assault wolf-cry and that had been two days ago. She'd been bored at work and had spotted Dale in the locker room, sans shirt, and decided to have a little harmless fun. After all, he was interested in her, right? What was the harm in getting it on with him? So she'd said 'hello', sat square on his lap, and started teasing him.

"Maddy, Maddy what are you doing?" Dale asked, his eyes going wide.

Madigan smiled sweetly and said, "Havin' a little fun. What's the harm in that?" She giggled as she started placing kisses along his face and jaw. She heard Dale's breath catch and felt his hands go to her hips. _Yup, boy wants to play_, she thought in satisfaction. She began to run her hands along his arms and chest, marveling at their shape and strength. "I know you want me, sweetie, and I'm all for it. What say?" she whispered seductively in his ear. She trailed some more kisses on his face before finding his mouth and placing butterfly kisses there.

She felt Dale's hand go to her hair and grip her head and suddenly she was being kissed back, kissed like she'd never been kissed before. Then, with a painful _thump_, she landed flat on her backside on the floor. _What the hell?_ she wondered, looking up at Dale in confusion, who was standing up, breathing hard.

"I want you, Maddy, I won't deny that, but not like this," he said. And, without saying anything else, he grabbed his shirt and towel and headed for the men's washroom.

That whole thing had occurred almost two hour ago. Now, Madigan's face burned in humiliation at the memory. What the hell did he mean by 'Not like this'?

After Dale had literally dumped her, she'd grabbed her jacket and headed for one of her favorite hunting grounds, not caring that it was nearly nine o'clock at night. There were a couple of bridges in that area and they were her favorite places for climbing and balancing. They were also overpass bridges and located near a few trains and she knew that if she fell, she'd be in serious trouble. But hey, what was life without a few risks?

She'd been doing just fine, perfecting a tricky new move, when a patrol car had shown up and two officers had gotten out. She'd talked to them, showed them her identification and all that, and the next thing she knew, they were calling an ambulance and she was being strapped down to a stretcher.

It had turned out that someone had put a BLO on her for dangerous behavior to herself and she'd been spotted showing signs of dangerous behavior by playing around on the high-level subway bridge, where there were electrified train rails. The officers wouldn't say who had put the BLO on her but Madigan had a pretty good idea. _How dare he?_ she thought angrily.

She tugged on the restraints, feeling the pain from where they had cut in to her skin and tugging again, some crazy part of her wanting to feel the pain. As far as she was concerned, it was better than the emptiness and depression and despair and confusion she'd been fighting with over the last few weeks.

"Miss, you need to stop doing that," the paramedic said gently.

"What do you care?" she snapped. "Compared to the bullshit I've been dealing with lately, this is great."

His eyebrows shot up at this. "You're deliberately trying to hurt yourself?"

"Hey, what's a little pain compared to all the emptiness and depression I've been feeling lately, ever since some asshole shot himself in front of me?" she snarled.

"Are you attempting to kill yourself?" he asked, making a note of her comment.

Madigan chuckled dryly. "No, I won't give that miserable little bastard that satisfaction. I won't give his precious little family that satisfaction. They want me dead, they'll have to come and get me and I'd fight them tooth and nail. Matter of fact, I would _enjoy_ the fight."

And the paramedic knew, deep in his soul, that she would indeed enjoy the fight.

At the hospital, the two cops who had called the paramedics were waiting for them. One was quietly talking to a nurse and filling out the paperwork while another one was talking to a doctor and none other than Detective Don Flack, her brother. He was dressed in off-duty clothing, consisting of jeans, shirt, runners, and jacket and he was looking none-too-happy about things. He glanced up at her and then turned away, continuing to talk to the cop and the doctor.

The anger came. She let it roll through her, not realizing it was weeks of suppressed anger at quite a fair number of things, not just towards her brother. Her brother was simply a target, even if he wasn't the true target.

"Don, you sonovabitch, you put me in here, you get me the hell out _right now!_" she yelled, fighting her restraints with renewed strength. They hurt her wrists and ankles but she didn't care. In fact, the pain felt good. The paramedics quickly got her out of the area, heading towards the area indicated by the doctor. She continued yelling.

"Let me go! Let me go or I swear I'll take your balls and use them for baseball practice! Don! Get me out of here! I'm fine, you bastard, there was no need for this! You are _not_ going to like what I do to you when I get my hands on you and that's a promise!"

Flack closed his eyes tiredly as Madigan was taken away to what he knew was a physiatric patient confinement room. He knew she would be forcibly stripped and put in a gown, with or without her cooperation, and would be restrained yet again.

"You're doing the right thing," the doctor, a guy by the name of Harrison, said gently, seeing the pain on Flack's face. He'd been alerted about Madigan Flack coming in and her behavior and had already begun working with the officers in charge of bringing her in, along with her brother, who had been alerted of the situation via phone call from Dispatch, as had been the instructions when the BLO had been initiated. Harrison had then been apprised of Madigan's background and recent events and had a pretty good idea what was going on with his young patient.

"I just hope she doesn't hate me for the rest of my life," Flack admitted. "What will happen now?" he asked.

"It depends. Are you admitting her as a cop or as family?" Harrison asked.

"Family."

"And I'm admitting her as cop who witnessed her behavior," the famle cop, Jackson, said. "The same with my partner."

"Okay, for now, she will be classified as a Form 10 until I've had a chance to evaluate her. Then, depending on what I learn, she may be down-graded to a Form 1, which is someone who can't leave the hospital without my express permission," Harrison said. "In the mean time, is there anyone you can call, someone who can give you the support you need?"

"I don't need support," Flack said, confused.

Harrison smiled patiently. "Don, we _all_ need friends and support in a situation like this. The next eight to ten hours are not going to be easy on any of us as we attempt to help your sister."

Flack nodded. He knew whom he could call; there was someone who would understand more than anything what it was like to go through hell and come out alive. It was the same person who had warned him that things might come to this and he would be forced to do things he wasn't going to like.

He went outside and took out his cell, punching an auto-dial number. "Yeah, it's Don. Listen, you were right; I just had to admit Maddy to North General Hospital for dangerous behavior to herself." He chuckled wryly. "I'd forgotten what a mouth that girl has. Yeah, she fought, or at least as much as she could. Doc says it's going to be a long couple of hours as we try and get through to her. Okay, thanks, Mac, I appreciate this. Thanks, man."

He shut his cell and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Harrison was right; it was going to be a long couple of hours.


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: my energy and my available time is finally starting to increase 'cause I actually managed to get two chapters done tonight. Mind you, that could also have to do with the idea that came to mind, lol. Anyway, thank you all for the kind reviews._

**Chapter 27**

When Mac entered the waiting room of North General Hospital, he quickly spotted Flack in one of the chairs, dressed uncharacteristically in jeans and shirt. He had a cup of vendor-machine coffee in one hand but wasn't drinking it. Instead, he was staring at nothing, lost in his own thoughts. Mac was still in his customary suit and dress shirt, having been just getting off duty when Flack had called him. He had bolted for the hospital as quickly as traffic would allow him.

"Don," Mac said, joining him.

Flack snapped out of his thoughts and nodded at his friend.

"How is she?" Mac asked.

"Last I heard, still cussing up a storm," Flack said. "Like I said, I'd almost forgotten what a mouth Maddy has." He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "The cops said Maddy put up a real fight, just like I was afraid she might. She's not one to take things like this lying down."

"Maddy has always struck me as a bit of a fighter, one who chooses her fights," Mac said, smiling. "And when she does choose to fight, she does so with both fists."

"And feet," Flack said, grinning.

"That too."

"Do you really think we can reach Maddy?" Flack asked, worry etching his face.

"I know we have to do something," Mac said.

Dr. Harrison joined them, concern on his face. Both Flack and Mac stood up to greet him. "How is Maddy?" Flack asked.

"I've down-graded her to a Form 1, which means she can't leave unless I says so, but I'll tell you, she's one angry, hurting young woman," Harrison said. "She's refusing to talk about what happened, refusing to admit that there's a problem. She claims she's dealing with it, despite my attempts to tell her otherwise." He rubbed his face tiredly. "I'm sensing a lot of bottled up anger, grief, pain, and confusion over a lot of things and sooner or later it's all going to come to a head and I'm concerned about how it may come about."

"Doctor, no insult intended, but I don't think she needs a doctor," Mac said.

"What do you think she needs?" Harrison asked.

"I think she needs someone who's been there, done that on a similar scale, someone who understands but someone who isn't a family member," Mac said.

"And are you that someone?" Harrison asked.

Mac smiled. "Before I was a cop, I was a Marine and I was there when a suicide bomber hit the Marine base in Lebanon, Beirut in 1983. I was also here during 9-11, where I lost my wife due to her being in the Towers, and when Don, here, was injured in an explosion that was eerily similar to the explosion in Beirut," he said.

Harrison nodded. "If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that there's no one way to help someone with PTSS or Survivor's Guilt. Everyone's different. If you think you can help Madigan, I'm willing to let you do whatever you feel you need to, provided it's within reason."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mac said. "I should warn you, depending on what happens, it may take me a few hours."

"Take all the time you need," Harrison said. "She's not going anywhere until I give the say-so."

"Don?" Mac asked, wanting to make sure Flack understood what was going to happen.

"Do what you have to do, Mac, but please, get the Maddy I know and love back," Flack said. Mac nodded.

"Will you need anything?" Harrison asked.

"A jug of ice water, glass, and a straw for Maddy, a blanket, and coffee for me," Mac said.

"I'll arrange it," Harrison said.

_A few moments later:_

Mac entered the room where Madigan was strapped down flat to the bed via flannel ties to her wrists and ankles. She was dressed in a plain yellow hospital gown and she was looking none too happy with life. A nurse followed Mac with a jug of water, glass, and straw, and set them on the table beside the bed and quickly left, shutting the door behind her. Mac, coffee and blanket in hand, sat the coffee down on the table, placed the blanket at the foot of the bed, removed his outer coat, draped it on the nearby chair and looked at Madigan.

"Do you want to sit up, Maddy?" Mac asked, going back to the foot of the bed.

"It would be nice to see something other than this damn ceiling," she said sarcastically.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Mac raised the head of the bed so Madigan was now in a reclining position. Then he sat down in the chair and said, "We need to talk, kiddo."

"Nothing to talk about," she snapped.

"That's where you're wrong. Elliot's death and the recent events have affected you more than you're letting on," he said.

"That's bullshit! I'm fine."

"Are you? You're having nightmares, not eating properly, taking some dangerous personal risks, hell, you punched out a reporter not that long ago. Don't think we haven't noticed, Maddy, because we have, and we're all very worried about you." Mac studied the young woman and said, "What happened with Elliot was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

"You weren't there! You don't know what happened, what it was like having someone blow their brains out in front of you!" she yelled angrily. "You deal with the aftermath of the crime, not the actual crime! You're not the one with blood on your hands, the one who hears the gunshot echo night after night after night! You don't know what it's like to see someone die right in front of you and wonder what the hell you could have done to prevent it!"

"What makes you think I don't?" he asked quietly. "Are you familiar with a bombing at a Marine base in Lebanon, Beirut in October of 1983, one that killed over 200 Marines?"

"So?"

"I was there, Maddy, and someone died in my arms, someone I couldn't save even though I was badly injured myself. I couldn't save him, Maddy, and it still haunts me to this day. So yeah, I know, I know more than you think I do, kiddo."


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: the italics are memories, flashbacks, so to speak, as Mac tries to help Madigan. Mac'sGirl, this one's for you. Thanks for your help._

**Chapter 28**

_"What the hell?" he wondered, watching the yellow Mercedes-Benz delivery truck circle the parking lot of the Beirut International Airport, where he was stationed, along with the rest of the 1st Battalion 8th Marines, under the U.S. 2nd Marine Division of the United States Marines. Suddenly, the truck accelerated and headed straight for the barbed wire fence. His radar went on Red Alert and he was running towards the truck before he even realized he was running._

"October 23rd, 1983, I was a young lieutenant Marine stationed at the Beirut International Airport where the Marines had their base. We were part of the international peacekeeping efforts ever since the 1982 Israeli invasion. 6:20 a.m., a suspicious truck was spotted circling the airport parking lot. Due to the rules of engagement at the time, we were keeping a peaceful, low profile. We were there to help keep the peace, not start anything."

_As he watched in growing horror, the truck smashed through the barbed wire fence and passed between two sentry posts. Before the Marines stationed there could raise and load their weapons, before anyone could do anything, the truck crashed through the gate and proceeded to crash into the lobby of the Marine headquarters._

"The truck smashed through several gates, got passed the sentry posts, including the one I was at, and made a new entrance in the lobby of the Marine headquarters, where the driver then detonated the equivalent of 12,000 pounds of TNT."

_The gunshot echoed through the room, sounding like an explosion. She screamed involuntarily._

_He raced towards the building, unslinging his weapon from his place at his shoulder, but he never got there. Seconds later, an explosion ripped through the building. The explosive force tore through the area with such force that it sent him flying backwards into another building hard enough to knock him out. His world went black as his head slammed into the wall of a concrete building._

"The explosion collapsed the four-story cinder-block building into little more than rubble, crushing the many officers inside and instantly killing the driver of the truck. I wasn't in the building at the time; I was closer to the fence and on gate sentry duty. The force of the explosion knocked me a good ten to fifteen yards backwards into a concrete wall, where I blacked out."

_Someone slammed into to her with the equivalency of a linebacker sacking the quarterback and she went down, hard, still screaming._

_Pain raced through him as his world slowly came back into focus. His head hurt like hell and he was having trouble breathing. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs and instantly regretted the move as his head let him know exactly what he thought of that move._

_Then memories rushed back at him. The truck, the explosion. His head snapped towards the main building and his face, already pale from pain, went even paler at the horror he saw. The entire building had been leveled and there had been several dozen people inside that building. Ignoring the pain and the ringing in his ears, he took off at a dead run towards the building._

_He found a few survivors near the edge of the blast who, like him, were badly winded from the explosion. One officer, a Navy personnel, was dead after having been slammed headfirst into a vehicle and snapping his neck on impact. It was not a pretty sight but there were indications that the officer had died instantly._

_The confusion was everywhere, with dazed officers, some mildly injured, others seriously injured due to falling debris as a result of the explosion. Cries of pain reached his ears._

"When I came to, there was absolute chaos everywhere. People were injured, some were dead, and some hadn't even seen the truck crash through the gate, having been on the opposite of the base at the time. I was injured, having hit my head. I would later learn I had a concussion, numerous cuts and bruises, along with several fractured ribs. The first casualty I came across was an officer of the Navy whose neck was broken due to going headfirst into a vehicle as a result of the explosion. The closer I got to the building the more casualties I found. I did what I could for them, and then I found Corporal Stan Whitney."

_"Help me," Whitney gurgled through a mouthful of blood. He had found him near the sight of the explosion and what he saw had his stomach twisting. Debris from the explosion had not been stopped by Whitney's body armor and now his chest region was a bloody mess. Whitney was in very, very serious trouble, especially if help didn't arrive and fast._

_Then the shots rang out, striking the area near him and Whitney. Ducking, reacting, not thinking, he grabbed the injured officer and dragged him behind a portion of the wall that was still standing._

_"Help me," Whitney gurgled again, pain and fear etched on his face._

_"Hang on Marine!" he snapped, trying frantically to stop the bleeding. "You hang in there, sir, you just hang in there!"_

_In the distance, someone shouted, "They've hit the barracks!"_

_A clatter reached her ears as his gun fell from his dead fingers. Black figures wearing combat gear surrounded her and the person who had tackled her, weapons at the ready, voices yelling._

"Corporal Whitney was near the site of the explosion and had taken a really bad hit to the chest region. When I found him, he was in very bad shape. Then the sniper fire started. I dragged Corporal Whitney behind a portion of wall that was still standing and tried desperately to help him while trying to locate the source of the sniper fire. I was trying to stay alive and keep Corporal Whitney alive."

_"If you can hear me, squeeze my hand," he demanded, clutching Whitney's bloody hand in his. "Squeeze my hand!" But he could see Whitney was fading fast. He ducked reflectively as another shot rang out, quickly followed by answering fire from someone else. "Sir!" he cried desperately._

"I would later find out that Corporal Whitney's intestines had been shredded, his lungs punctured, and his stomach not much better off. If Rescue had gotten to us in time, it would have been touch-and-go for Whitney. As it was, due to the sniper fire, Rescue was hindered badly, even taking some casualties as a result."

"Were you scared?"

"Scared out of my damn mind. I was afraid of dying and I hurt like hell but at that moment, that was the least of my concerns. I was more concerned about keeping Corporal Whitney alive, but he was dying."

_Whitney looked at him; shaking uncontrollably, fear in his eyes, eyes that were already looking somewhere else, somewhere beyond this plane of existence._

_"Sir! Squeeze my hand, sir!" he all but begged._

"Due to the situation, there was nothing I could have done, even with what field training I had. Nothing had prepared me for this, nothing. Corporal Whitney died and there was nothing I could do about it."

_Blood, so much blood._

_Blood pooling on the floor, slowly spreading, stretching, growing in size._

_It was all over the place. Who knew the human body had so much blood?_

"I would later learn that over 200 Marines were killed in the explosion, with another sixty soldiers injured, myself included. After Corporal Whitney died, a bullet struck a nearby ammunition stockpile and I was caught in the explosion. I walked away, barely."

"Do you still see his face?"

"At first I used to every night as I tried to sleep. I used to have nightmares about the attack and about Corporal Whitney's death. I couldn't save him, Maddy, and I tried damn hard but it just wasn't enough. There was nothing I could do."

"Does it ever get any easier?"

"In time, in time it does, but the memories never really go away. That was why, when Don was injured, I fought so hard to save him, because it was not just him I was seeing, it was Corporal Whitney I was seeing too and I wasn't about to let another man die in my arms. It took a lot of people, myself included, a long time to get over that, to get over the horror and the bloodshed, the senselessness of it all, to get over everything. They say time heals everything but that's bullshit. Time doesn't heal anything, it just tempers it, makes the pain less dull. The pain never really goes away, Maddy, it just gets easier to deal with."

_Someone lifted her up off the floor, away from the shelter of the stranger's body. They tried to hustle her past him, but didn't quite manage to stop her from seeing the blood and the body. Eyes wide with horror and shock, she saw what was left of his face, the result of a bullet to the brain._

_So much blood._

"In time, the nightmares will fade but you need to first accept that there was nothing you could have done, nothing, Maddy, nothing. Elliot made his choice and you need to let him go. You need to let everything go."

"Did you let Corporal Whitney go?"

"Yeah, I did. It took time but I let him go. It took me time but I finally realized that there was nothing I could have done. The bombing was a bad situation all the way around and a lot of good people died unnecessarily that day. I don't know why I survived and Corporal Whitney didn't and for a long time I wondered. Some days I still wonder but then I look around and see the work that I do as a cop and remember something that my commanding officer, Major Montgomery, told me. He said that it's not about whether or not you survived but what you do after the incident that counts. So every day, no matter how bad things get, I remember that and somehow I find the strength to get out of bed and keep on trying, keep on living, keep on trying to do the right thing, because I know, deep down inside of me, I know that's what Corporal Whitney would have wanted." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and looking at her square in the face. "I understand, Maddy, more than you realize, what it's like to experience the kind of horror you've experience. You're not alone, kiddo, you're not."

She looked at him for a long, quiet moment. Then, as he watched, a tear caught the light and slowly made it's way down her face. Then another one followed on the other side of her face. And another. And another. And with a wracking sob, the dam burst.

She turned towards him, searching, seeking, not quite understanding, but needing. He drew close enough to let her lean her head against his chest and then felt her tug at her wrist restraints. It was a different kind of tug, not the tug of someone fighting to get free but the tug of someone trying to reach, to hold. It only took a quick tug of the flannels on his part to release her wrists and one he did, her arms stole around him, holding on desperately as a storm of pent-up grief washed through her. As gently as any parent holding a hurting child would, he rocked her, not saying anything, just letting her cry, letting her grieve.


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: thanks again for all the nice reviews and I'm going to be nice and give everyone two chapters in one shot. Now that things are starting to return to normal at work, I'm hoping I can get more chapters in on my other stories as well._

**Chapter 29**

It would take nearly half an hour before Madigan stopped crying and when she finally eased off, she was nearly asleep. She was tired, not just physically, but mentally as the events of the last few days and weeks and the recent emotional cascade had taken its toll on her.

Mac gently laid his charge, for that was what she was, down on the bed, released her ankles, and covered her with the blanket.

"When you've slept for a bit, we'll talk some more," he said gently.

She nodded tiredly. "I just want to run away from everything, take a break from everything; is that bad?" she asked, curling up under the blanket.

"No, it's understandable. Where would you go, if you could?" he asked.

"Miami. I know a friend there and the oceans are beautiful," she admitted.

"Miami's a pretty nice place," he said, smiling.

"Have you ever been there?"

"Once, on a case. I know a friend there as well."

She nodded sleepily and her eyes drifted shut. Within moments, she was sound asleep.

Mac stood up and quietly left the room, where Flack and Dr. Harrison were waiting for him. He looked at both men and smiled tiredly. "She's going to be okay. She's cried and that's the first step."

"Did she say anything?" Flack asked.

"She asked me a couple of questions and then admitted to wanting to go to Miami to take a break from everything. Seems she knows someone there," Mac said.

Flack nodded, remembering. "Yeah, she does. Seems she briefly spent some time in Miami during her travels. She met a Dr. Alexx Woods and a Tim 'Speed' Speedle of the MDPD while she was there."

"The second name sounds familiar," Mac said.

"Yeah, Maddy said he was killed in the line of duty shortly after she left Miami. He may have worked with your friend, Lieutenant Caine, because I remember her mentioning having met him once while she was there," Flack said.

Mac nodded. "It might not be such a bad idea for her to get out of town for a few days. It would be a change of pace, a change of scenery, since she admitted she found the oceans beautiful."

"Would get her away from the Dawsons," Flack said. "Heckadon, the lawyer handling the case, said it's a slam-dunk and he really doesn't need Maddy there."

"Would she stay with this doctor friend of hers?" Harrison asked.

"More than likely, since I know Dr. Woods told Maddy that if she ever came back, she would always have a place to stay," Flack said.

"In that case, a vacation may be just what this young woman needs," Harrison said. "We can talk to her employer, see what he or she says but I'm not anticipating a problem."

Flack and Mac nodded. "Once Maddy wakes up, we can talk to her some more about it," Mac said. "Right now she's so sound asleep that I don't think even a bomb going off is going to disturb her too much. She's worn out, both physically and mentally."

"Just watch out for the nightmares," Flack cautioned.

"In that case, I'll inform the nurse to keep a mild sleeping agent ready in case she does wake up and does request a mild sleeping aid," Harrison said. "Other than that, I'll just have coffee ready for her, should she request it." Both men nodded. "Now, my advice is for both of you to go home and get some rest. I'll call you if her condition changes but I don't think it well. Something tells me Madigan is going to sleep for the rest of the night."

_Noon, the next day:_

"Are you sure?" Madigan asked, looking at her boss, concerned.

"I'm sure, Maddy," Matthew DeCoteau, owner of _Stonewall's Gym_ and Madigan's boss, said firmly. "We're setting up a new gym in Miami and I want my best people there, helping it get off the ground. Despite everything that's happened, I consider you to be one of the best wall-climbing instructors I've had and I think your input at the new gym would be appreciated."

Employer and employee were looking at each other from the bed and chair. Maddy was properly dressed, about to be released to her brother's care, and was sitting on the bed, facing her boss, who was in the chair next to the bed. He was dressed in his customary sweats and shirt with the gym's logo on it.

Madigan had indeed slept through the rest of the night, waking up only once to make use of the bathroom. She later admitted to Dr. Harrison that if she had dreamed, she couldn't remember it.

"It'll take about three weeks, give or take, and you would get paid for it. It would also get you out of town for a while, have some sun and fun, and take a break from all the bullshit that's happened," Matthew said.

"But wouldn't I be running away from my problems, rather than facing them?" she asked.

"Nope; you're heading to Miami on business. That's not running away, that's doing your job," Matthew said.

Madigan thought about it for a moment. "What about the Dawson suit?"

"Heckadon says he can handle it without you," Flack said. He was standing nearby, having gone home, slept, showered, and brought Madigan a change of clean clothes. "In fact, he figures he can play up the sympathy of the judge by saying that it was because of the difficulties the Dawsons were causing that you elected to not attend the proceedings."

"So you think I should go?" Madigan asked.

"It would do you some good," Flack said.

"And if you stayed with your friend, Dr. Alexx Woods, then I would feel more comfortable with the idea of you being in Miami," Dr. Harrison said.

"I could give her a call," Madigan said, liking the idea more and more. Grinning at her, Flack handed her a certain photo album and his cell. She chuckled, flipped the book open, found what she was looking for, and dialed a number.

The line on the other end rang twice before someone picked up.

"_Dr. Woods,_" came a pleasant female voice.

"Hi, Alexx, it's Maddy."

"_Maddy! Sugar, what a pleasant surprise! How are you, baby?_"

"I'm okay, more or less. Listen, umm, I was wondering. Does your original offer still stand, the one about me having a place to stay should I ever venture towards Miami again?"

"_It does indeed, sugar, it does indeed. You planning on coming my way soon?_"

"Yeah, I am. I work for a gym called _Stonewall's Gym_ and they're setting up a new gym in Miami and my boss is considering sending me there to help get them started. The job should take about three weeks, at the most—" Madigan said.

"_Don't you dare consider renting a room, sugar. When you're on that plane, you let me know and I'll come and get you. My kids still ask about you and Horatio occasionally wonders how you're doing,_" Alexx cut in.

Madigan smiled. She looked at her boss and nodded. He looked through a sheaf of papers and said, "You'll be on the ten a.m. flight tomorrow on Maybach Air. According to the schedule, you'll hit Miami International at twelve p.m., give or take a few minutes." She relayed the information to Alexx.

"_In that case, sugar, I'll be there with bells on. If something comes up, I'll give you a call and try and arrange to have someone I know pick you up, okay?_"

"Okay, Alexx. Thank you, I really appreciate this."

"_Something in your voice tells me there's more to what's going on than what you're telling me, sugar, and when you get here, I want to know everything, you got that?_" Alexx said.

Madigan chuckled. "It, it won't be easy, Alexx, but I'll try, okay? No promises."

"_That's all I ask, baby, that's all I ask,_" Alexx said. "_Whatever's wrong, we'll work it out together._"

They said their good-byes and hung up. Madigan nodded in satisfaction. "Looks like I'm heading for Miami tomorrow."

"Just out of curiosity, how did you meet Alexx?" Flack asked, curious.

"It's a long story but it's an interesting one," Madigan said, remembering.


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N: bit of background on Madigan and Dr. Alexx Woods. This is actually a two-parter, which will conclude, more or less, in chapter 31, so keep your eyes peeled. For Speedle-lovers, let me know if I got his character personality right, please and thank you!!_

**Chapter 30**

_Mid-summer, four years ago, back-roads of Miami Everglades:_

Dr. Alexx Woods, M.E., cussed and swore as she studied the flat tire of her medical van. She was about half an hour away from the city in the Everglades with two bodies in her van and her tire had just gone flat.

The way she saw it, she had a choice; she could either fix the tire herself or call for road assistance and wait nearly twice as long for help.

"And they say it's all about women power," she muttered to herself as she got out the tire iron, jack, and spare tire. The noise of someone walking on gravel caught her attention. She looked up and spotted what looked like a young man in scruffy jeans, boots, backpack, jacket, sunglasses, hat, and shirt, walking up the road. A rolled-up sleeping bag was on the back of the backpack and the young traveler looked pretty hot and dusty.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" the young man, correction, young woman, called as she got nearer to Alexx.

"I'm fine sugar. What are you doing walking these roads on your own?"

She shrugged and said, "Driver took me as far as he could, which was a couple of miles up the road. I'm trying to get in to the city."

"Well, I'll be quite happy to give you a lift once I change this tire," Alexx said.

"Tell you what, I'll give you a hand with that if you don't mind my putting my bag in your van," the woman said.

"Good idea and thank you," Alexx said, smiling. The woman smiled back and Alexx judged her to be in her early twenties, late teens.

The woman quickly put her bag and jacket in the van and was back at Alexx's side in an instant. They worked quickly on the tire and were just about done and had, in fact, lowered the van from the jack and removed it when a vehicle pulled up. Still on her knees, the woman, who had given her name as simply 'Maddy', looked up, a wary look crossing her face. One hand curled around a fist-full of dirt as a man got out of the jeep and approached them. He was a tall, muscular, white man dressed in shorts and shirt but what made Alexx nervous was the way he held one hand behind his back.

"You ladies okay?" the man called.

"We're just fine, thank you," Maddy said. "We're just about done here."

"That's good. In that case, you can help me…" and the man pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a small black gun. "By getting ready to do a little strip tease for me, _right now._"

Alexx froze like a deer in headlights, her heart-rate speeding up rapidly in fear. Maddy's response was to use her free hand to tug Alexx close and hiss, "_Get ready_."

Alexx looked at Maddy and saw the determination in her eyes. She didn't know what she was going to do but everything about her said she was prepared to fight and to win.

The man approached them, waving his gun at them and Alexx raised her hands in the air.

"You, get up slowly," he said. "No funny tricks or I blow a hole in one of you."

He was less than a few feet away when, like a coiled snake, Maddy struck.

"Run!" she yelled, even as she lunged up and flung a hand-full of gravel, rock, and sand straight in to the man's unprotected eyes.

Alexx heard the man yell as she bolted for the driver's side of the van and yanked the door open, diving into the safety of the vehicle. Somehow, shaking as hard as she was, she managed to get the key into the engine and just barely remembered to get the passenger door open for her companion. Then she looked out the side mirror in time to see the end-result of Maddy's charge.

Meanwhile, after throwing the dirt into their would-be rapist's eyes, effectively blinding him, Maddy planted her foot in the guy's testicles, doubling him over. Then, with her fist, she struck a point between the man's right shoulder and neck, called the Breakpoint, which caused him to promptly loose all feeling in his hand and arm, resulting in him dropping the gun. Next, she kicked him on the side of the right thigh, which caused him to loose all feeling in his leg and drop to the ground on his knees. Wanting to make sure he couldn't follow or find them for a while, Maddy struck a vicious blow right behind his ear. The man hit the ground unconscious.

She grabbed the gun by the guard and bolted for the van, literally diving into the seat. "Get us the hell out of here!" she snapped.

Alexx floored it, ignoring the fact that she was leaving behind the van's tire iron and jack. Those could be replaced, their lives couldn't be.

Maddy hunted around the glove compartment box and pulled out a plastic baggie, which she carefully put the gun in.

"Who knows, cops might be able to get something off of this, and if not, they might be able to trace it," Maddy said, carefully examining the weapon. "At least if we have it, Jackass back there can't use it."

"We'll turn it over to the CSIs the moment we get back to the lab," Alexx said, not liking the looks of the weapon.

"Good idea," Maddy said. "And while we're at it, you look like you could use a stiff drink."

Alexx chuckled. "Not while I'm on the job."

"Fine but definitely get yourself a strong cup of coffee or chamomile and lemon tea. I find that helps," Maddy said.

"Coffee, definitely the coffee," Alexx said.

When they were far enough away, she reached down and got out her cell phone. Punching a speed-dial number, she put it to her ear and listened as the line rang twice before someone answered. "Horatio, it's Alexx. Listen, I'm going to be coming in and I'm going to need someone to meet me at the loading dock. I need to file a report for attempted murder and attempted rape. I'm fine, Horatio, I'm fine. God decided to send me an angel with a mean right hook and I got away. We've got the gun the bastard tried to use on us and it's in a plastic bag. Yeah, I can identify him all right but I don't think he's going to be too hard to find. Last time I saw him, he was on the back roads coming in from the Everglades, out cold. I promise, I promise you we'll head straight to the labs. I promise. We'll be there in about fifteen to twenty minutes with the way I'm driving. Okay, see you soon." She hung up. "I swear that man fusses worse than anyone I've ever known," she gripped.

Maddy chuckled. "Let me guess, he could probably say the same about you."

Despite her shattered nerves, Alexx had to chuckle at that.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" Alexx asked.

"Got a cop for a brother. He taught me every dirty trick there is to know when it comes to hand-to-hand combat and self-defense," Maddy replied. "Plus, I've been on the road for the last two years and I've learned a few things."

At the loading area of the Miami-Dale Crime Lab, a man with red hair, sunglasses, and a nice suit stood waiting for them. Beside him were a slender woman with long blonde hair and a man with black hair and a five o'clock shadow. Alexx identified them as Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Calleigh Duquesne, and Tim "Speed" Speedle, all CSIs with Horatio as the supervisor.

The moment Alexx and Maddy got out of the van Horatio went over to the M.E. "Alexx, are you okay?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders in what was clearly friendly affection and concern.

"I'll be okay, Horatio. I promise. Some bastard pulled up while we were trying to change a flat, waved around a gun and told us we were going to do a strip-tease for him. I was just very, very lucky that Maddy came when she did. Girl's got the meanest right hook I've ever seen," Alexx assured her long-time friend as she watched two attendants unload her cargo of bodies.

"Maddy?" Horatio asked, confused.

The girl, who had come around the van from the passenger side and joined them, backpack on her shoulders, smiled sweetly and said, "That would be me." She held up the plastic bag with the gun in it and said, "Who wants this? It's the gun Bozo back there was waving around like he was Mr. Big-Man-On-Campus-With-A-Gun. Last time I saw him, he was looking pretty stupid eating dirt." The scorn was evident in her voice.

Calleigh stepped forward and accepted the bag. "Oooh, looks like we have a 9mm Compact Heckler and Koch USP," she said, grinning as she examined her new toy. "Compact but powerful. I'll see what I can pull off of it." And she and the gun vanished inside.

"Which is precisely why I took it," Maddy said. "I'll tell ya, when you do catch up to him, Bozo's going to have some pretty interesting bruises which he'll have a fun time explaining away."

"How so?" Speed asked, not sure what to make of this young woman.

"Last time I bothered checking, it was mighty, mighty hard to get a bruise right behind your ear," Maddy said.

"You hit him behind his ear?" Alexx asked in amazement.

"That would've been the…" she counted quietly on her fingers as she mentally reviewed her actions. "Dirt to the eyes, foot to the balls-" Speed winced at that "fist to the right Breakpoint, Charlie-horse kick to the right thigh, and fist to the point behind the ears, yeah that would've been the fifth and last thing I did to him, aside from taking his gun. Spot behind the ears is the Nite-nite knock-out point."

"Okay, Breakpoint?" Horatio asked, wanting clarification.

Maddy decided to pick on Speed, since he was kind of cute. On him, she indicated the spot between the neck and the shoulder. "There are some nerves there that are connected to your arms. If I were to squeeze there, I could drop this boy to his knees and get him to cooperate with me mighty damn fast. He would also temporarily loose feeling in his fingers. If I hit him there hard enough, I can cause him to loose all feeling in his arm and his fingers and he would get a pins-and-needles sensation in his hand that is very, very painful. It would take about half an hour to an hour before he got any feeling back in his hand. That's called the Breakpoint but the catch is you have to really know what you're doing."

"And you do?" Speed asked.

She looked at him and said, "When you've got a cop for an older brother, a brother who is determined to make sure baby sister can defend herself when he's not around, it's hard not to. I can always be a bitch and use you as a human lab rat."

He looked at her, decided not to chance it and said, "I'll pass."

"Didn't think you were stupid enough," she shot back.

Speed looked at Alexx and said, "Alexx, where did you find this kid?"

Maddy's eyebrows shot up and she got right in Speed's face. "I may be a _kid_, pal, but I can still plant your pretty face on the floor!"

"That will be the day," Speed said.

Deciding an intervention was needed before she had a third body to do a post on, Alexx quickly booted everyone inside. She promised Horatio she would have the report on the incident written up as soon as possible and, in the mean time, she needed to feed Maddy. As she dragged Maddy away, she said, "He's a bright boy, one of the better CSI's I've worked with, so please, sugar, don't kill him."

"Pfft, wasn't planning on it but I would dearly love to knock him down a notch or two, just for the hell of it," Maddy sassed.


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: damn, when I'm rollin', I'm really rollin'! Three chapters in one sitting!_

**Chapter 31**

_Four years ago, Miami, Florida_

"You're still around?" Speed asked as he spotted the girl called Maddy pushing a metal stretcher with a cloth-covered body towards the morgue.

"Get used to my face, boy, 'cause I plan on sticking around for a few weeks more, at least until something better comes my way," Maddy shot back.

"At least it's pleasant to look at," Speed shot back.

She grunted. Alexx had kindly given her a temporary job as a body-hauler and a roof over her head for the duration of her stay. Now she was dressed in scrubs and sneakers, with her short hair in a headband. The weather was good, the money was good, and Alexx was kind, even if she did tend to fuss like a mother hen. That was okay; she didn't object. Alexx's husband was nice and her kids were pretty cool. The other reason she was hanging around was in case she was needed to testify in Dorkster's trial, where he was being charged with attempted rape and murder. Patrol had found the man, complete with bruises, and had hauled him in for some very pointed questions. His prints and his gun had come up in connection with several other rape cases and he was subsequently being charged with those as well.

"At least you admitted that I am pleasant to look at. But remember, look, don't touch, or I'll be forced to hurt you," she sassed.

"After the bruises I saw on the guy you decked, I am staying the hell away from you," he said, having seen the photographs.

"Good man. Now, kindly get outta my way. Alexx needs to process this guy and he's a bit on the stinky side," she said, jerking her thumb.

Speed lifted the sheet to look at the body's face and said, "'Fraid I can't do that."

"Why?"

"Because this guy is also my case and he's stinky because he spent nearly twenty-four hours in a pond," he said.

"Fine but kindly shift so I can get through the door," she said. "Water-soaked bodies do not a pleasant smell make and that smell is a bitch to get out of my clothes."

He grinned and moved out of the way enough so that she could get through the morgue doors.

In the morgue, Alexx looked up, spotted Speed and Maddy and said, "You antagonizing my hauler again, Speed?" she asked casually.

"No worse than usual," Speed said easily.

"How can you antagonize someone who fights back?" Maddy wondered out-loud.

"Just don't kill him, sugar. I'm not so sure Horatio would appreciate having Speed on my table because of you," Alexx said, waggling a glove-covered finger at them as she pushed another body back into the body fridge.

"Pfft, I can think of better things to do than kill him," Maddy said as she waited for Alexx to come to the table so she could transfer the body to the autopsy table. It took but a moment and then that was done.

"Do I dare ask?" Speed asked.

She grunted and said, "Well, I'm pretty handy with a rope and know all kinds of knots. Rope-burn's a right bitch, especially if it's done in the right spot." She eyed his groin and smiled evilly before taking her stretcher and leaving the morgue.

"That girl is scary," Speed said.

"Then don't let her get her hands on a rope of any kind," Alexx said, removing the sheet to reveal her body. "I've seen her show my kids some really neat tying tricks and she knows her stuff."

Maddy hung around Miami for several weeks, liking the work and Alexx and, she admitted reluctantly, Speed. They wound up developing a mutual respect for each other but it rapidly became the lab joke about their relationship, with Speed constantly baiting her. Several lab techs started taking bets about how long it would be before someone found him hanging from the ceiling via his neck.

One day Maddy over-heard, after having being baited yet again by Speed, Calleigh asking him, "Why do you deliberately bait her? You're asking for trouble."

He said, "Yeah, I know, but she fights back and it's fun."

He rapidly changed his mind about a week later when he made the mistake of teasing her, not knowing there was a pile of rope nearby. She planted her foot in his chest, shoved him in a chair, and had him neatly tied to the chair in a matter of seconds in such a way that the more he tugged at the ropes, the tighter they became. Then she walked away. It took Horatio hearing him yelling to finally get him out of the damn thing, and then he had the fun task of explaining the whole humiliating situation to his boss, who only smiled in amusement. The incident spread like wildfire through the lab and he got his ass ragged for about several days afterwards. After that, he never, _ever_ teased Maddy when she had some rope nearby.

As far as Maddy had been concerned, that had been long-over-due payback. As for her and Alexx, Alexx was great, fussing over her like a mother hen, making sure she was healthy, had all her necessary shots for whatever, and generally playing a combination of doctor, friend, and mother.

It was in Miami, after talking to both Alexx and Speed, where Maddy decided to get her New York badge tattoo. Speed did the badge number search for her and was even kind enough to recommend a tattoo artist who could do the work.

Before Maddy left to follow the construction work, she promised she would keep in touch with both Alexx and Speed and would drop them a line if she ever made it back to New York.

_Present day:_

"When I'd heard that Speed had been killed in the line of duty shortly afterwards, I was pretty upset. I wanted to attend his funeral but I was in Tallahassee at the time; too far away. I did promise myself that if I ever did go back to Miami, ever, for whatever reason, then the one thing I would do is pay Speed a visit," Madigan said, remembering.

"Looks like you'll get your chance," Flack said, smiling gently.

Madigan nodded.

_Later that day:_

Flack stuck his head in Mac's office. "Hey Mac, you got a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?" Mac asked, gesturing for Flack to come in.

"I hate to ask this but I need a small favor," Flack said.

"If I can, I will."

"Do you have the number for Lieutenant Caine in Miami?"

"I do," Mac said. He reached for his cell and flipped through the directory until he found the number he wanted. He scribbled it down on a piece of paper and handed it to Flack asking, "What's up?" He had been apprised of Madigan's situation and, quite frankly, approved of Madigan going to Miami for a few weeks.

"This is probably crazy and I've tried to talk myself out of it repeatedly but I know Maddy is going to be staying with Alexx, who works for Caine, and I'm going to simply ask him to keep an eye out for her for me, if he can and if he's willing," Flack said.

"If I know Horatio, he probably will, quite happily," Mac said, smiling. "He's pretty big on family."

"But will he understand?"

"I think so, yes. All you can do is ask."

_A few minutes later:_

"_Caine._"

"Lieutenant, this is Detective Don Flack in New York. Mac Taylor gave me your number. We met in regards to Henry Daris," Flack said.

"_I remember. How can I help you, Don?_"

Flack sighed heavily. "This is going to sound crazy but I have a bit of a favor to ask of you. I've got, umm, I've got a baby sister named Madigan and she's a pretty good kid but she's been through a tough time lately. Somebody held her hostage and then shot himself in front of her." He took a deep breath, mentally reviewing his little speech yet again. "Anyway, that was about three, three and a half weeks ago and Maddy took it pretty hard. Her boss is sending her to Miami for a couple of weeks to help set up another branch of the gym she works at, mostly to give her a break from everything, including the Wrongful Death suit, courtesy of the family of the suicide victim, and I know she's going to be staying with Dr. Alexx Woods, your M.E., if I recall correctly."

"_That is correct, yes._"

"The favor that I'm asking is, if you wouldn't mind, would you keep an eye on her? She's a good kid but the whole suicide thing really did a number on her and she's only just starting to recover from it. I know I'm probably just fussing but—"

"_No need to explain. I can understand, Don, I can understand because I was once a big brother as well. Once Madigan arrives in Miami, I'll work with Alexx and keep an eye on her for you._"

"Thanks, Horatio, I really appreciate this."

"_No need for thanks. After all, family is everything and we all have to look out for one another._"


	32. Chapter 32

_A/N: blame it on me selling way too much Elvis at my store but I decided to throw him in for a bit, sort of. Mac'sGirl, thanks for the suggestion, but don't forget, Maddy's only 24 and I figure Mac to be in his mid-to-late fourties, especially since he mentioned being a young lieutenant during the Oct. 1983 bombing in Beirut. Mac doesn't strike me as being the kind of guy who will get it on with a very young woman. In the mean time, thanks for all the nice reviews, everyone and keep 'em coming!_

**Chapter 32**

It was late evening and Madigan was grabbing some stuff from her locker at the gym in preparation for her flight to Miami tomorrow. She was kind of looking forward to it, looking forward to seeing Alexx and her husband and kids, and seeing the sights of Miami again. She was sure that helping set up the gym would also prove to be a challenge, one she relished.

She looked at the letter in her hand, one she had written earlier that day for Dale. It was an apology of sorts, for having come on to him so heavily the night before. She was going to slip the letter into his locker and hoped he didn't tear it up the moment he saw her handwriting. Her face still burned in humiliation at the memory of the night before. She had admitted to her brother that she really, really liked Dale and hoped that she hadn't totally screwed up their relationship to the point of No-Salvage. He wasn't sure but had said that all she could do was try and apologize and hope for the best.

A noise caught her attention and her head snapped up, searching. It was Dale, coming in to the locker room, a towel in one hand. He was fully dressed but his hair was mussed and damp and his skin was flushed, indicating he'd just had a serious workout and was possibly going to have a shower next.

Boy and girl stared at each other for a moment before Madigan ducked her head in embarrassment and continued to grab her things from her locker, putting them in her bag, which was on the bench. She heard his quiet footsteps approach his locker, which was near hers, and silence fell between them.

Madigan struggled to find the right words, to apologize. _Why was it always easier to write things than say things_, she wondered absently. Then, _might as well go for broke. Got nothing to loose._

"Dale, umm, listen, I'm, I'm sorry about what I did last night. I screwed things up really good and I'm sorry," she said, keeping her head down. There was silence for a moment and then came Dale's quiet voice.

"What happened, Maddy?"

A scent tickled her nose as a shadow fell over her and she looked up. Dale stood in front of her, leaning against her locker.

"I just, Elliot's death, what happened, it hit me harder than what I was willing to admit," she confessed. "I don't know, I was having trouble, I guess, accepting things and feeling things other than guilt and fear and all that stuff. Doing stupid stuff."

"And your wrists?" he asked, indicating her wrists, which bore raw, red marks he knew hadn't been there the last time he saw her.

"Donny called the cops on me for dangerous behavior to myself last night, after I left you, and I wound up in the nut-ward over-night, strapped down. Didn't take it too well and I fought like hell. Pain felt good because it was better than everything else I was feeling," she admitted, looking at the injuries.

"Did it help?"

"Yeah, it did. I had a major blubber-fit and then slept for the next several hours with no nightmares, thank god."

Dale nodded. "Where are you going?" he asked, indicating her bag.

"Boss is sending me to Miami for a few weeks to help set up a new branch of the gym down there. He claims it's business but it's also a break from everything. I've got Donny's approval, and the same with Heckadon. He says he can handle the suit without me and figures it'll be a slam-dunk."

"But you'll be back."

"I plan on it. New York's my home and I have friends here," she said. She finished packing her bag and shut her locker, closing the lock with a solid _click_, turning the dial once to toss the tumblers around. She leaned against the locker, glad Dale was talking to her, even if she wasn't sure what he was going to do or say next.

He nodded again, thinking. Yeah, there was definitely something a little bit different about her, a slight spark of the old Maddy he knew and loved and yes, he was in love with her, very much so. Last night had rattled him pretty badly and he hadn't been too sure what he was going to do but now that she was here and apologizing, he knew he couldn't let her go.

"I've been acting pretty crazy lately and I admit it. I just hope I haven't mucked things up so badly between you and me that I've ruined any chance of, well, anything, happening," she said, ducking her head as her face went red at the memories again.

A wave of tenderness gripped him and he gently reached out and tucked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Once she was looking at him, his hand slid around to bury itself in her hair, which felt like liquid silk to him.

"You haven't mucked things up beyond repair, Maddy. Now that I understand what's going on with you, I can understand your actions and I can sympathize. Elliot's death hit us all pretty hard but it's understandable that it would hit you the hardest because you were right there when it happened," he said gently. "My sister was involved in a vehicle accident where she accidentally hit this guy who stepped right in to traffic. She hit him head-on and there had been no warning what-so-ever that he was going to do anything. It turned out it was not her fault, that the guy was suicidal, but she nearly drank herself to death and the accident nearly destroyed her marriage. If it weren't for the love and the strength of her husband and our family, she probably would have followed that guy to the grave." He smiled at her gently and said, "I don't want to see that happen to you."

"It won't, I promise. I'm too angry at Elliot to follow him," she confessed.

"That's good; I'm glad to hear that."

He gently pulled her to him, enfolding her in a hug that was both tender and gently sensual at the same time. She slid her arms around his waist, almost hesitantly, and snuggled against him, liking how he felt, strong and masculine. She fought the urge to moan as the scent of his sweat and musk tickled her nose and aroused some very erotic feelings, not a good thing when she was trying to repair bridges.

_Down, girl,_ she told herself firmly.

"When you get back from Miami, what say we try this whole dating thing for real, hmm?" he suggested.

She nodded. "I'd like that a lot," she confessed.

"Good. In the mean time, there's something I want you to do for me while you're in Miami."

"What's that?"

He let her go long enough to reach in to his shirt and pull out a gold coin medallion on a gold chain. Stamped on both sides were images of Elvis. Madigan recognized the pendant as she'd seen Dale wearing it numerous times and knew he was a fan of Elvis, mostly for his music and deep spiritual sense. Reaching up, he undid the clasp on the necklace and, before she knew what he was doing, he had slipped the necklace around her neck, done up the clasp and tucked the pendant under her shirt.

"This originally belonged to my dad, who was a really big Elvis fan when the King was still alive. He gave it to me a few years ago when I was going through a really tough time and told me that no matter where I went, because he'd worn the medallion for so long, a part of him would always be with me," he explained. "Now, because I've worn this for so long, I'm giving you part of me to take with you to Miami."

He watched as Madigan's eyes went soft and she gently touched the medallion in awe.

Then he grinned and decided to play dirty. He captured her face in his hands and, before she realized what was going on, he gave her a kiss that was hot, tender, and designed to set her pulse racing all at once. When he finally lifted his head, after exercising all his self-control to not take her right there and then, he was pleased to see she was breathing hard and her face was flushed.

"What was that for?" she asked huskily.

"Something else to hold on to while you're in Miami," he said, grinning.

"Okay," she managed to get out, clearly very dazed.

"Elvis, _Let Me Be There_," he said.

"Huh?" she asked, not recognizing the song title and still feeling badly off balance.

He grinned at her. "Look it up, sweetheart." And with that, he sauntered out of the locker room to the men's showers, leaving her flustered, badly aroused, and confused as heck.


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N: okay, I don't exactly consider this to be my best chapter, considering I had to rewrite it over twice before I was satisfied but I'm hoping things will improve in the next couple of chapters so many appologies in advance!_

**Chapter 33**

When Calleigh Dunesque entered the autopsy theater to pick up some paperwork, she was just in time to hear Dr. Alexx Woods cussing royally about something. She was glaring at a sheet-covered stretcher and looking none too happy abut life at that very moment.

"My, my, such language, Alexx," Calleigh teased, grinning. "What did the poor fellow do to annoy you so much?"

"He is going to cause me to be very late picking up a friend at the airport!" Alexx said angrily. "She's flying in from New York, going to be staying with me for three weeks, and I promised her I'd pick her up at the airport and this fellow is preventing me from leaving on time!"

Calleigh smiled in sympathy. "What time is she supposed to arrive?"

"In about an hour. I was planning on leaving in half an hour to head for the airport and then this fellow showed up and the Detectives are demanding answers yesterday! He's a multi-GSW victim and there's no way in hell I can get him finished in half an hour!" Alexx said, gesturing with her hands in frustration.

"Can you get ahold of your friend and let her know you're going to be late?"

"She'd still be in the air and the best I'd be able to do is leave a message on her cell but I feel so damn guilty about leaving her like that," Alexx admitted.

"Not if I were to pick her up and bring her here. Would that help?" Calleigh offered impulsively.

Alexx looked so relieved that Calleigh smiled even wider. "Would you mind, baby? It would be greatly appreciated and I'd owe you big time. She's coming in on a flight from Maybach Air."

"It's not a problem. Besides, I'm kind of curious about this friend of yours."

"Do you remember a girl named Maddy, the one who rescued me from a would-be rapist out in the Glades? Speed used to torment the heck out of her," Alexx said.

Calleigh's face lit up as she recalled the young woman. "Oh yeah! She tied Speedle up in a chair once, didn't she? It was Horatio who finally rescued him because Maddy had tied him in such a way that the more he pulled, the tighter the ropes got." She grinned at the memory.

"The very same girl," Alexx said, grinning.

"I remember her. Is she the one coming in from New York?"

"That's her. Seems she's working for a gym now and they're setting up a new branch here in Miami and her boss is sending her down here to help get them set up."

"In that case, send her a message on her cell, telling her that I'll be picking her up and, just to make sure she knows who to look for, send her a picture of me," Calleigh said.

Grinning, Alexx grabbed her cell and quickly took a picture of Calleigh. Then, fingers flying over the number pad, she sent the picture and a brief message to Maddy's cell phone.

"What does she look like, anyway?" Calleigh asked, curious. "It's been a few years since I last saw her."

Alexx fiddled with her phone for a moment before turning the screen towards the firearms expert. The screen showed a young woman with short brown hair and light blue eyes wearing a tweed Ivy League hat, white shirt with the words "I 'heart' NYC", worn navy sports coat, and jeans.

"She hasn't changed much, has she?" Calleigh asked, studying the picture.

"I don't know," Alexx admitted. "There was something in her voice when I last spoke to her. Horatio said he got a phone call from her brother, Don Flack, a detective he met while he was in New York last time, chasing after Henry Daris."

"I remember the case. That was how I met Detective Mac Taylor," Calleigh said. "I can see why Horatio respects him."

"Anyway, Don told Horatio that someone had held Maddy hostage before committing suicide right in front of her and she was taking the whole thing pretty hard. He asked Horatio to keep an eye on Maddy, one brother to another."

"Oh boy."

"Yeah. I'm hoping that while she's here I'll get the whole story from her, maybe help her if I can," Alexx said, worry crossing her face.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I can probably relate to how she feels," Calleigh said, remembering her own involvement with someone who committed suicide. "Maybe between the pair of us, we can help her."

"I hope so."

"In the mean time, I'm grabbing your file on Parker Henderson and then I'm going to go pick up Maddy from the airport," Calleigh said cheerfully.

Half an hour later, at the airport, Calleigh was waiting at the New York arrival gate. She had received confirmation from Alexx a few minutes ago that Maddy had received her message and would be looking for her.

The passengers began disembarking and within moments Calleigh spotted the familiar tweed hat, white NYC shirt, and the navy men's sports coat. She waved and Madigan waved back, heading right for her and carrying a black carry-on bag over one shoulder.

"Hey Maddy, welcome back to Miami," Calleigh said when the young woman joined her.

"Thanks and I appreciate you picking me up," Madigan said.

"It's not a problem," Calleigh said, smiling. "You got your luggage?"

"Just the carry-on. I just need to grab the rest of it from the carrousel," Madigan said, gesturing towards where the other passengers were heading.

"Lead the way," Calleigh said.

It took less than fifteen minutes for Madigan to grab her bag, a large hockey-gear bag that contained not only her clothes but also her climbing gear.

As they walked outside to the Hummer, Madigan pulled out a pair of large, dark, vintage sunglasses and slipped them on.

"Where the heck did you get those?" Calleigh asked as they got in the vehicle.

"Gift from a friend, namely my brother's co-workers, whom I happen to be friends with as well," Madigan said, slinging her bag in to the back of the Hummer.

"Those are pretty nice," Calleigh said, meaning it.

Madigan flashed her a smile. "Thanks."

Within moments Calleigh was driving through Miami, watching Madigan watch the traffic.

"I appreciate you picking me up and taking me to Alexx," Madigan said.

"It was no problem at all. Got me out of the lab for a few hours," Calleigh said, grinning.

"Just out of curiosity, umm, where's Speed buried?" Madigan asked quietly. "I kinda owe him a visit."

Calleigh gave a small smile and said quietly, "He's in Woodlawn Park Cemetery, located between 8th and 16th Street and 32nd and 34th Avenue, section P15. You want to swing by there, say 'hello', before we hit the lab?"

"No, but thank you. Maybe another time. Once I know what I'm doing in regards to work, I'll pay him a visit," Madigan replied quietly. "I have quite a bit to do before I can head back to New York. I just hope I can get it all done."


	34. Chapter 34

_A/N: thank you, thank you, thank you all for the kind reviews. Took me a bit of figuring out on this one but I hope it's up to par._

**Chapter 34**

Alexx and her husband bolted for Madigan's room, where they'd been woken to the sounds of the young woman crying for someone to stop, pleading with them. They found Madigan still in bed, still asleep, but in the apparent midst of a nightmare. Since they were both parents of young children, their night senses had been honed to be alert to the sound of any of their children being awake at night.

"No, please, Elliot, stop," Madigan moaned, thrashing her head. "Elliot, no, please, _please_! I'm sorry!"

Husband and wife looked at each other and then, without saying a word, went over to Madigan.

"Maddy, hey sweetie, it's okay," Alexx called gently, reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of her face. "It's just a dream, sugar, just a dream."

With a gasp, Madigan snapped awake, breathing hard. She looked around the room frantically before her confused gaze settled on the Woods. Then, and only then, did she relax.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Alexx asked, concerned. This was the third such night she and her husband had been woken to Madigan's nightmares and Alexx was growing more and more concerned.

"I'm fine, Alexx, John. I'm sorry for waking you again," Madigan said apologetically.

"Maddy, what are your nightmares about?" John asked, kneeling beside the bed and looking at the young woman he'd come to like and respect.

Madigan shrugged. "Old memories that won't go away, that's all," she said. "I'll be okay, don't worry."

"You know, if you ever feel like talking about those memories, we'd be quite happy to listen," Alexx said.

Madigan smiled tiredly and said, "I know, and I appreciate the offer but these kind of memories, they're not easy for me to talk about. I will, I promise, but I just need time, that's all." There was something in her voice that said the subject was closed and husband and wife looked at each other and quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.

"What can we do?" John quietly asked his wife, worry etching his face.

"Horatio said that her brother, Don, had mentioned that Maddy had been involved in a suicide shooting. I'm going to talk to Horatio in the morning and try and get some more details on this suicide," Alexx said.

"You think the suicide could be causing her nightmares?" John asked.

"Especially since Don admitted to Horatio that Maddy hadn't handled the incident well."

John nodded. "Maybe it's time we found out exactly what happened."

_The next day:_

"Horatio!" Alexx called, spotting the redhead detective as he made his way down the hall towards whatever destination he was heading for.

"Alexx," Horatio said, stopping to acknowledge his friend.

When she was close enough to him to talk quietly she said, "Horatio, I need a favor, possibly a big one."

"If I can help, I will," he replied.

"Can you find out exactly what happened to Maddy? I know she was involved in a suicide-related incident but she's not talking about it," Alexx said. "She's been having nightmares for the last three nights and keeps calling out to someone named Elliot, asking him to stop and saying she's sorry. Whenever I try to talk to her about it, she clams up and I don't know what to do, except find out exactly what happened and then confront her with it."

Horatio nodded in understanding. "Let me make some calls and I'll see what I can find out, okay?" Alexx nodded in relief. "I'll page you when I have something."

It took a phone call to Don Flack to get the answers.

"_Maddy's nightmares are still happening?_" Flack asked, worry in his voice.

"From what Alexx is telling me, yes. And she's not talking about them."

"_Damn it. What can I do to help?_"

"Can you tell me more about what happened between Madigan and this Elliot person?"

"_I can do you one better than that, since I only got involved in the situation part-way. I'll tell you what I know and then I'll send you what files I can to try and give you a more detailed picture. Due to the various departments that were involved during and after, I'm not going to be able to send you everything but I'll send enough so that you get the idea._"

"Appreciate it."

"_Okay, about three weeks ago I get a visit from SWAT telling me that one Elliot Dawson was holding Maddy hostage at gunpoint in the locker room of Stonewall's Gym. At this point he'd already wounded a co-worker when he attempted to rescue Maddy from Elliot. The injury wasn't serious and Maddy was able to get her co-worker out of there alive, thankfully._"

"Do you know why Elliot held Madigan hostage?" Horatio asked.

"_Guy was in love with her,_" Flack said simply.

"And she didn't return that love?" Horatio guessed.

"_No, she was rapidly becoming involved with another co-worker and the relationship had the potential to become serious, although that relationship remains to be seen at this point. Apparently all Elliot wanted was for Maddy to listen to him without the interference of other people. Instead, when he shot her co-worker, all he did was make her mad and you don't want to cross Maddy when she's mad. SWAT got involved and we were able to get Maddy on her cell. Maddy tried to convince Elliot to give her the gun but he shot himself instead._"

"Was there any warning?" Horatio asked.

"_Absolutely none whatsoever. Matter of fact, SWAT thought he was going to shoot Maddy and one guy tackled her to the ground when he saw Elliot pull back the hammer on the gun and raise it._" Flack sighed heavily. "_The debriefing investigation afterwards confirmed that there was nothing that Maddy could have done. She was not a trained negotiator, had no training whatsoever in dealing with situations like her and had simply reacted according to instinct, which included belting Elliot in the face with her elbow and planting her foot in his nuts. He was a bit of a mess by the time SWAT finally got to him._"

"A bullet to the brain can do that," Horatio admitted.

"_Unfortunately, as if that wasn't bad enough, Elliot's family blamed Maddy for his death, even going as far as suing her for Wrongful Death and setting a particularly aggressive reporter on her, convinced the NYPD were hiding something because she was the sister of a cop._"

"And how is the suit going?"

"_Lawyer says he's got more than enough evidence and statements to convince the judge to throw the book at the Dawson family. Also, the reporter the Dawson family set on her? She took a swing at him when he got too pushy and he tried to make it look worse than what it was by showing up at the NYPD the next day with more bruises than what she originally left him with._"

"Bet that went down well."

"_Real well. Last time I saw the idiot, he was cooling his heals in a jail cell pending numerous charges that come from lying to us cops and falsifying statements._" There was a grin in his voice before it changed to one of a more serious tone. "_One other thing, Horatio. Couple of days ago, I had to pull Maddy in to the hospital due to her having been spotted showing dangerous behavior to herself. She was in the hospital over-night for observation and it took her talking to Mac to get her to stop that particular behavior pattern and, hopefully, on the road to healing but something tells me she's still got quite a ways to go if she's not talking about her nightmares._"

"Why is she in Miami then?"

"_It's supposed to be a vacation and to get her away from the Dawson family and the fiasco that damn reporter created, more than anything else. She admitted she found Miami peaceful but I was hoping it would help her find some measure of peace. I'm starting to wonder if she ever will._"

"Be patient, Don. These things take time and now that I have a better idea as to what happened, I can let Alexx know and between the pair of us, maybe we can help her a bit more."

"_I hope so, Horatio, because she's my sister and I worry about her even though she doesn't want me to._"

"That's what family does; we worry and we fuss and look out for each other as best as we can."

As Flack promised, the compiled file on the Dawson suicide incident arrived at the crime lab within twenty-four hours. Horatio paged Alexx and together, in the layout room, they went over the file contents. Between them and the video, a copy of the original security video Flack had kindly provided them with provided they 'lost' the video since he wasn't technically supposed to give them a copy, they were able to piece together a bit more about what had happened.

As it was, during that moment, Calleigh chose to walk in and she saw the file, looking to speak to Horatio about another case. She froze momentarily when she saw the post-death photos of Elliot Dawson, since Elliot bore a faint, passing resemblance to deceased Detective John Hagen, especially with his brain matter and blood all over the place.

"What's this?" she asked, curious.

"The suicide case Madigan was involved in," Horatio said.

"How's she doing?" Calleigh asked, having taken a liking to the young woman.

"Not good. She's still having nightmares and isn't really talking about it," Alexx said. "Sounds like she's blaming herself for what happened."

Calleigh looked at the picture of Elliot and said softly, "It's not an easy thing to talk about, no matter what any one says. Even now, I still find it hard to believe that John killed himself right in front of me."

"Did you have nightmares, sugar?" Alexx asked gently.

"For a long time afterwards. That's why I transferred out of Ballistics for a while," Calleigh admitted.

"Did they ever stop?"

"Only after I finally picked up a gun and fired it in the testing room again, after nearly six months of avoiding it. But my situation was less emotionally wracking than Maddy's, from the looks of it," Calleigh admitted.

"She's a fighter and Elliot didn't give her the fight she wanted by killing himself," Horatio said.

"Then the only real way Maddy's going to get everything out of her system is if someone who looks like Elliot makes the mistake of pissing her off and then, and only then, once she's had a chance to do some real damage to Elliot, so to speak, will she be able to sleep. That and talking about it," Calleigh said.

"But she won't talk and that's what the problem is," Alexx said.

"In that case, it's amazing what a late-night girl gab session will do," Calleigh said brightly.

"You got an idea, sugar?" Alexx asked, smiling.

"I grab the wine, you grab the girl," Calleigh said, smiling.

"And I grab the aspirin for the hangover," Horatio said, smiling ruefully.


	35. Chapter 35

_A/N: sorry so long on the up-date but my Muse sort of went for a wander. As a 'thank-you' for your patience, I'm doing two chapters for the price of one. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 35**

"And then here comes Ryan, looking like he'd seen a ghost and he's stammering something about one of my bodies sitting up on the gurney, about the body being alive," Alexx said, giggling.

"Was it really?" Madigan asked, wide-eyed and grinning.

"It wasn't there! By the time Ryan came and got me, there was another body there and I seriously thought poor Ryan had gone off the deep end!" Alexx cackled. "Then, of course, Ryan found who the real 'body' was and while he was talking to me about it, he made the mistake of putting his hands on the gurney that the 'body' had been on. His hands promptly went numb. I thought he was playing games with me when he dropped the file he was holding but he was serious; his hands had gone numb!"

"Holy!" Madigan yelped, still grinning. "What the heck was going on?"

"Turned out the 'corpse' had taken something called blowfish poison, which is also known as 'zombie powder' and mimics the appearance of death," Alexx explained. "The guy had tried to fake his own death."

"Oh jeeze," Madigan said.

"And as if that wasn't weird, the same day, poor Natalie, the table she was working on?" Calleigh said.

"Oh-oh," Madigan said, grinning.

"It shattered."

Madigan's eyes went wide. "How the heck did that happen?"

"Best we could figure, Eric had put a heavy sledgehammer non-so-gently on the table earlier that day, possibly cracking it. Then, when Natalie was using the centrifuge, the vibrations caused the crack to expand to the point the table shattered," Calleigh explained. "Natalie just happened to be leaning on the table when it shattered. Talk about a mess!"

"Bet that made for a gruesome sight!" Madigan said, grinning as she took another swig from her wine glass.

Alexx had practically dragged Madigan over to Calleigh's place, insisting on a girl's night out, so now she and Alexx were in Calleigh's living room, complete with munchies and ice cream and wine at three a.m. in the morning. They were piled on Calleigh's couch and chair, a bottle of wine between them, and had been gabbing about everything and nothing for the last several hours and were now playing a game of Truth or Dare. The current Truth was to tell the craziest thing that had ever happened to them.

"And as if that wasn't weird enough, there was a little wooden coffin involved in the case. Eric refused to touch it due to his religious beliefs and Ryan was a bit superstitious about it," Calleigh said. "I just thought they were all being very superstitious about the whole thing, especially since Santeria was involved in the case, until the coffin vanished, then I had serious cause to wonder."

"Santeria?" Madigan asked, puzzled by the term.

"It's a set of related religious systems that fuse Catholic and Christian beliefs with traditional Yoruba beliefs," Calleigh explained. "The whole thing was pretty freaky all the way around, especially when that little wooden coffin went missing."

"Oh, I'll bet."

"Your turn," Alexx said. "What's the craziest thing that ever happened to you?" she asked Madigan.

Madigan thought about that for a moment. "The craziest thing that ever happened was when I got suckered in to helping my brother's CSI friends solve a case by trying to drown one of 'em."

"You're kidding," Calleigh said, grinning.

"No I'm not. You've met Mac Taylor, right?" Madigan asked.

"Yup," Calleigh said.

"It was me, Danny Messer, and Mac. The victim had been built like Mac and the only suspect in the case was built like me," Madigan explained. "Now, Mac's cute in his clothes, I cheerfully admit to that, but I had to try and drown him and he was wearing nothing but a dinky little Speedo and all I could think was '_Oh my gawd!_' Donnut boy he ain't! If he ever made _Playgirl_, I'd buy the first issue!" Alexx and Calleigh both cackled with laughter. "And to make the whole thing worse, I'd nearly punched him out several days before, when he woke me up from sleeping on the NYPD reception bench, where I was waiting for Donny." Grinning at both women, she held up one finger, even as she took another swig of wine from her glass, she continued. "Now, that's bad, but not _nearly_ as bad as having blood poured on you and you're wearing nothing more than a sports bra and boy shorts."

"Are you serious!" Calleigh yelped, neatly refilling Madigan's nearly empty glass.

"I am very serious. Danny and another CSI, Lindsey Monroe, they were trying to figure out blood splatter patterns and once again I happened to be the right size and yada yada yada," Madigan explained. "So there I am, lying on a queen-size sheet-covered table, covered in this fake blood, all in the name of science. And, of course, they had to borrow a lab tech to play the attacker and he had to straddle me. That went down real well, especially when I was heading for the showers. You shoulda seen the looks I got, especially since one of the 'wounds' was a repeated throat stab while the victim was still alive and those things are messy as heck. I looked like something out of _Carrie_!"

Both women cracked up.

"Okay, next one," Calleigh said, grinning. "Truth or Dare, what's the _scariest_ thing that's ever happened to you?"

Alexx held up her hand. "I can think of two things right off the bat. There was the time when Eric and I got caught in a fire in the marshes."

Madigan's eyes went wide, even as she took another drink from her glass. Her head was swimming a bit, but beyond that, she was fine. She was in safe company and having fun, which was all that mattered.

"What happened?" she asked.

"There was a controlled fire in the Glades and a body of a hunter had been found, past the breakline, where we thought it was safe. Eric and I were processing it when, all of a sudden, this wall of fire came straight at us. Thankfully, Eric had a fire blanket and he covered us and the body while the fire roared over us," Alexx said. "I seriously thought I was going to wind up on the autopsy table with my own toe-tag."

"Holy crap!"

"Oh yeah. Talk about some serious dry eye problem!" Alexx said, grinning, even as she remembered the horror and fear she felt. "And then there was the time my dead body turned out to not be such a dead body after all, complete with gun and gunshot wound."

Madigan's eyebrows shot up. "Uh-oh."

"He was an escaped con who had switched places with one of the bodies I was transporting and, like I said, he was injured and desperate. _That_ was not a fun ride."

"Oh, I'll bet!" Calliegh said.

"Did you eventually get away from him?" Madigan asked.

"Horatio and his people were able to track me down once Eric found the body switch and they chased after him, right in to the Glades, but he escaped in to the fire. Trouble was, he couldn't escape the fire," Alexx said. "I was able to identify his remains only because I recognized my handiwork on his bandage."

"Wow," Madigan said.

"My turn," Calleigh said. "A gang member ran me off the road in the Glades while I was driving back from a crime scene and my Hummer went head-first into a nearby lake. Only way I could escape was by smashing the driver-side window while I was in the water."

Madigan's eyes were wide and, both Alexx and Calleigh noticed, a bit glazed. The girl was well and truly on her way to becoming seriously drunk, which was their intention.

The plan between the two women was a series of deliberate questions that would lead up to the scariest thing they had experienced. And then, once they got Madigan going, there would a series of more, carefully put questions that would, hopefully, get Madigan talking.

"That would not have been fun," Madigan said.

"My only satisfaction was that we caught the twitch that did it," Calleigh said. "Then there was the time when my ex-boyfriend, John, held a gun to my head and pulled back the hammer."

"I know what that's like," Madigan found herself admitting.

"Yeah?" Alexx asked gently. At this point they had to tread carefully or risk the girl shutting down.

"Oh yeah. Major freak-out, especially when the idiot who's got the gun is somebody who, under normal circumstances, you'd ignore," Madigan said.

"Who was that?" Calleigh asked.

"Little shit by the name of Elliot," Madigan said, taking a healthy swallow from her wine glass, which was neatly topped up by Calleigh. "I'm on my way to join Dale, who is _the_ hottest guy in the gym, who's strength is outmatched only by the strength of his heart, to paraphrase _Hercules_, when this little shit puts a gun to my face and puts a bullet in a co-worker's shoulder, only to tell me he's in love with me!"

"I would imagine that went down well," Calleigh said.

Madigan snorted with bitter laughter. Maybe it was the wine, considering the amount she'd had so far, or maybe it was simply that she was comfortable with the two older women. Either way, it was like a dam had broken inside her and the words simply came tumbling out. With it came the anger and the bitterness, long held back from public view.

"Oh, I made sure he paid for shooting Jerry. Caught the runt in the nuts and in the face," she said with bitter satisfaction. Both Calleigh and Alexx winced.

"Did the cops get him?" Alexx asked, already knowing the answer to the question but asking anyway.

Madigan shook her head. "Took the easy way out by putting a bullet between his ears, just as SWAT tackled me, thinking he was going to shoot me." She was silent for a moment and when she spoke again, her voice and her face were filled with anger and loathing. "I hate him. I hate that miserable sonovabitch," she said. Before either Alexx or Calleigh could ask why, she burst out, "He took the easy way out and left me to pick up the fucking pieces! Not only that, but his family is blaming _me_ for something _he_ did, suggesting I all but pulled the damn trigger! Hell, I didn't even _want_ to _be _there! I wanted out! I didn't want it then and I don't want it now! I hate him!"

And with that came the tears. Like a sudden rainstorm, the tears poured down her face in a rentless torent.

"I hate him," she sobbed as Alexx gathered the younger woman to her and rocked her gently as she would one of her own children. "And I hate myself for not being able to stop him."

It took about half an hour before Madigan's sobs eased off, her grip on Alexx relaxed, and her breathing slowed down. Finally, finally she slept.

Alexx looked at Calleigh, worry in her eyes as she gently laid the young woman down on the couch. Calleigh handed her a blanket and they covered Madigan up.

"Will she ever be okay?" Alexx asked.

"She will never truly be the way she used to be, but I think she'll come away from all this a bit stronger," Calleigh replied gently. "She's a strong person, but she's never been dealt with something like this before and I think, like anyone witnessing the kind of thing she saw, she didn't know how to deal with it and took it pretty hard. I did, the first time someone died in front of me, and I took it just as hard when John killed himself."

Alexx nodded, watching as Madigan's eyelids twitched, a sign she'd entered REM sleep and was dreaming.

"She didn't deserve what happened," Alexx said.

"Nobody does, but hopefully she'll come away from it all a bit more stronger," Calleigh said. "It's all we can really hope for."


	36. Chapter 36

_A/N: I have found that it's when we are at our lowest of low points, emotionally, physically, or even spiritually, that we are more susceptible to things beyond our explanation, especially in our dreams._

**Chapter 36**

The storm whipped around Madigan as she struggled to make her way through a forest. She had to find the path again but it was so darn hard to see and she kept stumbling, being shoved around by the wind, the rain, and various branches and debris from the forest.

She was so tired and she wanted nothing more than to rest, to lay her head down for a while but she was firmly convinced that to rest was to give up and she wasn't a quitter. Not now, not ever.

She stumbled again but before she could fall, someone caught her and hauled her to her feet.

"You are one damn stubborn lady, aren't you?" a male voice said. She looked up, but because of the darkness from the storm and the trees, she couldn't see who he was. "C'mon," he said, leading her in a new direction.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Out of this storm," her companion said.

"But I have to find the path again!" she cried, tugging, trying to get him to let go of her.

"You will, just not right now," he said, not letting go. "You need a break, kid, whether you like it or not."

Up ahead a house emerged from the shadows and her companion pulled her inside. Inside a fire crackled merrily from a large stone fireplace. She moved towards it, seeking its heat, and sat down on the hearthstones, shivering. A moment later, her companion placed a warm, steaming drink in her hands and a blanket around her shoulders.

She looked up to say thank you and her eyes went wide.

"Timmy?" she asked in amazement.

"You expecting someone else?" Timothy 'Speed' Speedle asked sarcastically, sitting across from her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Seems the Higher Ups decided someone needed to knock some sense in to you and they designated me to be the knocker because we used to know each other," Tim explained.

"That's nice. Why do they feel I need some sense knocked in to me?"

"You think that storm outside is Mother Nature playing games?"

"I don't know what to think right now. I just know I need to find the path again."

"I hear a but in that sentence."

She nodded. "But I'm tired and I just want to take a break."

"Again another but."

"But if I take a break, that's like quitting."

"Not necessarily so. You see, Maddy, even the strong need a break once in a while."

"I don't understand," she said, confused.

He smiled. "You're a good person, Maddy, but you are so damn stubborn. You seem to think that taking a break, stepping back, means you're quitting and that's not the case. Some times you _need_ to step back and take a break, to stop and take a different look at things. This is a version of your break." He pointed towards the closed door, a door that rattled as the wind howled outside, trying to get in. "That storm out there is your emotions. You've kept everything so tightly bottled up inside you that it's turning into a ragging storm that's rapidly getting out of hand. It's a storm that's steadily growing in proportion to the point that it's soon going to make Hurricane Katrina look like a breeze."

"How do I stop it?"

"How do you think? By letting others know what happened, by talking about it."

"I did," she protested.

"Yeah, you did but that's only a start. That storm is still raging because you haven't completely let go of Elliot."

At the mention of Elliot, she scowled.

"Elliot is gone, Maddy. He's made his choices, choices that were beyond your control," he said gently. "You need to learn to forgive yourself for what happened."

"And if I can't forgive myself? If I can't forget what happened? I keep hearing the gunshot, Timmy, and I keep wondering what I could have done to change things. I was so angry at him," she admitted.

"And you still are, from the looks of it," he replied.

"Why did he have to kill himself, Timmy? There were other options, there is always other options."

"I know, kiddo, and Elliot knows that now and he has to live with the regret, not you. You need to let go of your anger and move on," he said gently. "The Higher Ups still have a lot of work for you to do and you can't do it if you keep yourself in this storm."

"How do I get out?"

"Do you want out?"

"I want to see the sunshine again," she admitted.

Tim smiled and suddenly Madigan found herself very firmly tied up.

"What the hell!" she yelped, struggling against her bonds.

"Payback's a bitch, kiddo," he said, grinning at her. "I might be dead but that doesn't mean I haven't forgotten."

"You jerk!" she yelped, straining, only to find that the more she struggled the tighter the ropes got.

"Here's the thing, kiddo," he said. "There's only one way you're going to get out of those ropes and that's if you genuinely want out of them. Not to get even with me but because you want out of this storm and this darkness, so to speak. Then, and only then, will the ropes let you go."

"Let me go!" she yelped.

"There's only one person who can let you go, Maddy, and that's you," he said. He reached up to the fireplace mantel and pulled down what looked like a bunch of photographs in various frames, except the pictures were moving in the frames.

"What the heck is that?" she asked, puzzled, even as she studied the picture.

"These are memories, specifically, your memories," he explained. "You were a cute kid back then and you're a beautiful woman now." He chuckled as he watched one memory of her trying to tackle her brother, who was wearing his high school letter jacket and laughingly holding her off easily, even as he tossed a football to someone out of view of the frame. She looked like she was about eight or nine, still pretty young and carefree. He showed her the picture and her face went soft as she saw the memory.

"He was always bigger and stronger than me but he was always so gentle," she admitted. "I miss him."

"These are the memories you want to hold on to, Maddy, not the ones of Elliot and Russell and the Dawson family. Those memories lead to nothing but a dark, lonely road and to an eventual emotional hurricane that will destroy you. You deserve better than that. These memories," he said, holding up the frame, "these are the good memories and they can lead you out of the storm and in to the sunlight, but in the end, Maddy, in the end the choice is yours."

And with that, he stood up, placed the pictures down in front of her, and calmly walked out of the room.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she demanded as he opened the door.

"To a place where I'll be waiting for you when the time comes. Your time isn't now, but the choice is yours, just as it always has been." He stepped outside to where the sunshine poured, covering him in a warm glow and he smiled. "Sunlight or darkness, Maddy. Talk and let go, or hold on and remain in silence and darkness. One choice will set you free, the other will keep you here permanently. Your choice." And with that, he was gone.

Madigan stared longingly at the door but she was still afraid, afraid that there was nothing but more pain and bad things waiting for her. She struggled in vain against her ropes but they simply tightened. Would she ever be free of the damn things?

Just then, to her ever-lasting surprise, a horse with a white and brown-splotched head stuck its head in the door and looked at her with wide, beautiful dark eyes, and whickered at her. A noise reached her ears; it was the sound of laughter and it seemed to be coming from somewhere beyond the sunlight.

She found herself straining to hear the laughter, to see what was so funny. She wanted out, wanted to see what was going on. Suddenly, finding the path no longer held any appeal to her and it rapidly became a forgotten memory. Suddenly, finding the source of the laughter and finding the sunlight was more important.

And just like that, the ropes faded away.

She stood up and looked down, spotting the picture of her and her brother. Smiling, she picked it up and held it against her chest, the memory filling her with warmth.

The horse whickered at her again and it seemed to be saying, "_Well, come on!_"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she groused good-naturedly as she stepped outside to a forest that was no longer being storm-tossed. Now that she could see the rest of the horse, it was a beauty. Its shoulders reached the top of her head and its coat matched its face, with large brown and white splotches and brown mane and tail streaked with white. It was a well-muscled horse and it held its head proudly in the sunlight, its coat gleaming.

Then it did something odd; it kneeled in front of her and she got the strong impression the horse wanted her to get on its back.

"Okay, whatever you say," she said, slinging her leg over the animal's back and gripping its mane as it stood up. "Where are we going?" she asked as the horse started walking.

The horse took her to a path that split off in three directions. One direction she could see was dark and scary and didn't look too promising, not with the way the trees hovered menacingly and the faint, harsh whispers she could hear coming from the shadows. Another path was a bit brighter and looked a bit more promising but she couldn't see what lay around the corner as it looked like a pretty meandering path, and that made her a bit nervous, but it looked safer than the first path. There was a third path and she thought she saw what looked like an open meadow but she couldn't see what lay beyond the meadow, so bright was the sunlight.

The laughter and giggling came again, tempting her and she bit her lip, tempted to check out the third path but the second path looked safer. Or was it?

The horse looked back at her and nickered as if to say, "_Well? Which way are we going?_"

The laughter came again and, before she knew it, she found herself leaning towards the third path. The horse obliged her and began trotting down the third path, picking up pace rapidly.

"Guess I know where we're going now, don't we?" she said, finding herself grinning. She looked back once and it was in time to see Tim standing at the fork, smiling at her. He nodded once and then she looked forward, towards the warm, brightening sunlight that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sunlight that warmed her to her very soul.


	37. Chapter 37

_A/N: I sincerly appologize to my readers for the lack of up-dates and honestly hope to have the rest of this story completed in the near future so I can focus on finishing my other two stories. Thank you kindly for your patience and the reviews and hope this chapter is up to your usual standards._

**Chapter 37**

"So the case has been dropped?" Stella asked.

"Judge Indica threw the whole thing right out, saying the evidence had only shown that Elliot's suicide had not been Maddy's fault," Flack said. He took a swallow of his beer before continuing. "Not only that, but he ordered the Dawson family to pay for the lawyer and court costs and also stated that they were to leave Maddy alone, with no more civil suits being pressed against her."

"That's good," Sheldon said.

"That whole mess shouldn't have even been started," Danny said.

"Well, what helped was the little deal we made with that reporter, Russell Edwards, and he sung like a damn canary in exchange for a little less time in jail," Heckadon said, grinning evilly. He was nursing a cup of strong coffee.

Flack, Heckadon, Mac, Stella, Sheldon, Danny, and Lindsey were all at _Sullivan's_ and they were celebrating the fact that Judge Indica had thrown Madigan's Wrongful Death suit right out of court forty-eight hours after the two sides had presented their respective evidence.

Judge Indica had not only thrown out the suit he had also chastened the Dawson family for going after Madigan the way they had.

"I understand you, as a family, are grieving, but lashing out at this young woman, blaming her for something that was clearly a tragic, unpredictable incident, an incident that could have cost her her own life as well as that of another co-worker, that is reprehensible. Your tactics involving Mr. Edwards were also seriously reproachful," the judge had said. "I understand you wanting answers but this time you went about it the wrong way. In an incident such as this, I fear we may never truly understand what went through Mr. Dawson's mind during his final moments. I sincerely hope I never see your family in my court again or next time I shall be very strongly tempted to throw the book at you." Then Judge Indica had looked at Irwin, the Dawson family lawyer, with ice in his eyes and said, "Mr. Irwin, as a judge for New York City, I am a busy man and my time is valuable. As far as I am concerned, this case was a complete waste of the court's time and I would strongly advise that you do not try this tactic in my court room again, Mr. Irwin."

Then, to Flack and Heckadon's amazement, Indica had done a complete turn-around and said, "Detective Flack, might I enquire as to how Ms. Flack is doing?"

Flack, who was sitting beside Heckadon, had stood up and said, "I've heard from her recently and all indications suggest that she's doing okay and will be okay."

"I'm glad to hear that. Your sister is a very courageous young lady with a lot of strength in her. On behalf of the court, I sincerely apologize for this whole incident and sincerely hope it does not happen again," Indica said. And with that, he had ended the court session.

"Thank god it's over," Lindsey said.

"Amen to that," Mac said. "How is Maddy doing, anyway?"

"I got an e-mail from her this morning. Seems a few nights ago she, Alexx, and one of Alexx's co-workers, Calleigh, had a little get-together, which resulted in one heck of a hang-over for her," Flack said, grinning. "Seems _someone_ kept refilling her wine glass."

"Maddy got drunk?" Danny asked, grinning, along with everyone else.

"Apparently so," Flack said.

"Damn, and we missed that!" Danny yelped.

"And it was a good thing we did, too. From the sounds of it, Alexx and Calleigh were, and I quote, 'a tad grumpy' the next day. Maddy over-heard Calleigh threatening to introduce a photocopy machine to the business end of a rocket launcher later that day," Flack said. "I think she said she also heard someone being threatened by Alexx, something about being put in a body cast if he or she didn't hurry the hell up and get the hell out of her morgue."

That elected a round of chuckles from the group.

"Other than that, she's having fun, getting a nice tan and all that," Flack said.

"And you believe her?" Sheldon asked.

"I'm inclined to this time, especially since I've also been getting e-mails from both Alexx and Horatio and they've both been saying the same thing; that Maddy's doing okay. Mind you, Alexx said she and Calleigh deliberately got Maddy drunk to get her to loosen her tongue a bit, especially in regards to Elliot."

"Did it work?" Lindsey asked.

"Sounds like it. Seems Maddy slept pretty heavily and the next day she had, and again I quote, 'a look of peace about her, like she'd come to some sort of realization,'. I understand she had some kind of dream but she didn't go in to too much detail about it."

"You can always prod her about it when she gets back," Heckadon said.

"Oh, I intend to do quite a lot of prodding when she gets back," Flack said, grinning.

"When is she due back?" Stella asked.

"End of this week," Flack said. He opened his mouth to say more when his cell rang. Glancing at the caller i.d., he flipped it open and answered it.

"Flack," he said.

"_Did you know your sister has a wicked temper?_" came Lieutenant Horatio Caine's faintly amused voice.

"I should, since I've got a scar on my lip and a chipped tooth as a present from her from when we were younger," Flack said. "What did she do this time?" he asked, ignoring the raised eyebrows and looks of amusement from his friends.

"_Put it this way; I'm guessing the issue in regards to Madigan's anger towards Elliot will no longer be an issue. A Southern boy took objection to our young Yankee throwing him around and tried to start a fight with her."_

Flack groaned and put his head in his hand in exasperation. "Court case?"

"_I wouldn't worry about it, Don, considering he started the fight. Madigan simply finished it."_

Flack groaned again. "Yup, that's Maddy, through and through. She won't start it, but God help you if she's pushed hard enough because she will finish it. That's how I got the scar on my lip."

"_I know the feeling. I've got a scar on my knuckles from a row with my brother, Ray, from when we were much younger,"_ Horatio said, chuckling.

They chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up and then Danny pounced on him. "You got a scar on your lip from Maddy?" he asked.

Flack pointed to a small, very faint line on the top of his upper lip. "I was fifteen, she was seven. Tormented the heck out of her one day and she swung. Nut shot followed by a right cross." Everyone winced. "And the worst part? The worst part was that was the very same move I'd taught her not that long ago. Never did that again. Oh, was she ever mad," he said, chuckling at the memory.


	38. Chapter 38

_A/N: thank you kindly for your nice reviews, as it was much appriciated, and once again, thank you for your patience._

**Chapter 38**

A few days had passed since Madigan had had her unusual dream and girl-gab session with Alexx and Calleigh. It was a session that had left her with a heck of a hangover, something she was fortunate she didn't have to explain the next day since it was technically her day off. Alexx and Calleigh, on the other hand, while they had managed to remain sober, they had been, from what she gathered, a bit grumpy the next day.

Today she'd had a bit of fun, wrestling with some of the guys in the gym. It had all been good fun, or at least that's what she thought. Then she had tangled with a brawny dark-haired guy with a bad attitude by the name of Gary. He hadn't taken kindly to the fact that she had thrown him around, or the fact that she was from New York, making her a 'Yankee.' Aaron, a tall, Jamaican guy whom she got along with pretty well, he'd mentioned that Gary was from one of the wealthier families and they were 'pure' Southern boys who had fought in the Civil War. Anyone not from Miami or one of the Southern states was not good enough for him, and the fact that Madigan had teased him with her playing, well, that hadn't gone down too well, by the looks of it.

But Madigan didn't really care. After all, Gary was a bully, and if he couldn't handle a bit of teasing then he wasn't worth her time. Besides, she had more important things to do. She was heading for the bus stop to catch a bus that would take her to the crime lab, where Alexx was, and where she would be giving the medical examiner a hand.

As she tugged her newsboy cap over her hair and was reaching for her signet ring, someone called out to her. She turned and groaned. It was Gary and he looked none-too-happy with her.

"What do you want, Gary?" she called back, not stopping. _Detect, Defuse, Defend,_ she told herself, and everything about Gary said he was itching for a fight. Well, she was not about to give him one, unless, of course, he really pushed for it.

"Where the hell do you get off showing off like that?" he demanded, getting in her face.

"What? You can't take a joke?" she asked, taking two steps back to allow for room and instinctively spreading her feet for balance.

"Humiliating me was no joke," he shot back.

"Oh, for Christ sakes, Gar, we were fooling around. I simply proved that you don't need to be all brawn to win a fight and a lot of women don't have the advantage of brawn so I simply showed them how to use their brain. Not my fault your ego is so big," Madigan shot back. "Good grief, some people are just _so _touchy." And she moved around him, intending to end the confrontation right there and then.

As Madigan turned to walk away, she felt someone grab her arm and she reacted instinctively, lashing out and up with her opposite elbow. The strike caught Gary square in the mouth, splitting his lip and causing him to bellow in anger and pain.

"You bitch!" he snarled, holding his mouth. "I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

Madigan sighed heavily. "Look, I really don't want to fight. I have nothing against you and I'd rather we just walked away," she said, moving out of Gary's reach.

A nasty gleam came to Gary's eyes and he said, "That's what you think, bitch." And he charged. He expected a lot of things but what he didn't expect was for his face to meet a lamppost as Madigan used his momentum against him by grabbing his arm and planting her hand between his shoulder blades and forcibly guiding him towards the lamppost. The impact was hard enough for him to see stars and anger him even further.

He spun around to face Madigan and she just stood there, hands on her hips, bag on the ground.

"You can walk away from this, you know? There's really no need to continue this," she said. "Of course, I should warn you that should you persist in continuing this rather stupid demonstration of your brawn, things are going to get worse and a lot more painful."

"A little Yankee bitch like you is _not_ going to get the better of me," he snarled. And with that, he suddenly charged again, fist raised.

She neatly sidestepped, lashed out with one foot and kicked him hard in his upper left thigh. He dropped to his knee instantly as pain radiated through his leg. Due to the fact that he was wearing shorts, the asphalt bit painfully in to his knee.

Gary looked up in time to see her right fist heading straight for his face. Pain exploded in his face as her fist struck his zygomatic bone, otherwise known as his cheekbone. When he could finally open his eyes again, Madigan had backed off. There was a nasty gleam in her eyes.

"That the best you got, little boy? Hmmm? You're not looking so big and tough now," she taunted. Madigan didn't know why she was taunting him, except she could feel rage building in her and there was quite a lot of it. If Gary wanted to fight, fine, she'd give him a fight he'd never forget. Not only that, but she'd make damn sure he never did it again. As far as she was concerned, it was his own damn fault for trying to pick a fight with her.

Somehow Gary managed to get himself up off the ground. If looks could kill, she was certain she'd be a crispy critter by now but hey, she was feeling the same way towards him right now so they were even.

"C'mon, little boy. Show me whatcha got. Prove to me you can take down a little Yankee girl like me," she taunted.

She let him get close enough to try and take a swing at her with his left arm, which she neatly blocked and followed up with a vicious punch to his left brachial radial nerve, which was located just below the collar bone. Gary yelled in pain as his left arm promptly went numb. Seeing red, he tried to take a swing at her with his right arm only to have her duck, come around, kick him in the inside of his right thigh which caused him to hit the ground again, and followed up with two vicious punches to the backs of his shoulders, where his brachial plexus nerves were located. Then she spun around again and this time she lashed out with an elbow strike straight to his face. There was a nasty crunching noise as his nose broke under the impact.

By now Gary was on the ground, in a great deal of pain. Blood poured down his face from his broken nose and split lip. His legs were numb, as were both his arms, and his knees stung. He honestly didn't know which part of him hurt the most.

He managed to look up at Madigan, and when he did, a pair of icy cold blue eyes stared down at him.

"This fight is over. Come after me again and I'll kick your ass all over again," she said coldly. And with that, she picked up her bag and proceeded to walk away.

Rage flowed through him, hot and dangerously, fueling him. Gary didn't know how he did it, but suddenly he found himself getting up off the ground, yelling, and charging towards Madigan.

She heard him coming, naturally, and spun around. Pain exploded when her foot caught him in his stomach. Air exploded from him in a rush and then the pain came.

Kidney punch to the back, kick to the nuts, upper cut to the face followed by a left cross, and then darkness came as her left knee met his face.

Breathing hard, Madigan glared at her tormentor and, fueled by adrenaline and anger, didn't really hear her name being called. It wasn't until someone grabbed her arm and she nearly planted her elbow in Horatio's concerned face did she realize a crowd had gathered.

"Madigan, easy!" Horatio said. "Easy," he soothed.

Horatio had been heading towards the gym to offer Madigan a lift to the lab when he'd spotted the trouble in the parking lot. He had gotten out of the Hummer in time to see the big burly guy try and attack Madigan but had been too far away to do anything. He had then watched in a combination of horror and fascination as the young woman brutally and effectively took down the much bigger man. It was then that he had grabbed her and nearly gotten hit for his efforts, realizing that she was still running on adrenaline-fueled fight instincts. It was those same instincts that had stopped her strike before it had connected with his face.

"The fight's over, Madigan," he said gently, watching as the ice in her eyes melted. "You've won."

"Damn, girl!" came a familiar Jamaican male voice. "You got some temper!"

Madigan smiled automatically as she looked around and noticed several members of the gym, including Aaron, had joined her. Two guys were helping a disoriented and bleeding Gary to his feet.

"I am so _not_ gonna piss you off," Aaron continued as he joined her and Horatio.

"Get him out of here and to a hospital to have him looked at," Horatio said to the two guys helping Gary. They nodded and began to help Gary away.

"He might try to have her charged with assault," Aaron cautioned.

Horatio smiled coldly and said, "That's fine but remind him that a _cop_ saw him start the fight. If he tries to have Madigan charged, I'll slap him with a charge of attempted aggravated assault."

"And we saw him too," said a by-stander, a woman wearing jeans and a t-shirt with the gym logo on it. "She was wrestling with him earlier today and the idiot just could not take a joke. I even heard him muttering things about getting even with her."

"Yeah, just because she chose brain over brawn and because she's a Yankee, which really pissed him off," said the woman's companion, a man in street clothes.

"Hey Maddy!" came Eddie's cheerful voice as he bounded over to her and put his arm around her. "A woman who can actually stand her ground! That's my kind of girl!" he teased. Eddie was an instructor at the gym and was happily married but had a look-don't-touch policy with his wife. The rest of the staff loved to tease him about it, but the truth was, Eddie was a man very much in love with his wife.

"Yeah, until your wife finds out," Madigan teased back.

"Hey, a guy can dream!" Eddie shot back easily. He suddenly gave a very girly-like yelp when Madigan tickled his ribs, making him jump.

"Except when you screech like that," Madigan said easily, grinning, causing a round of chuckles from the assembled group. Now that she was coming down from her rush, she was beginning to feel tired. Her fists were starting to smart as well and for some odd reason she wanted nothing more than to bawl her eyes out but she wanted to do it in private. Horatio noticed this.

"Come on, Madigan, let's go," he said gently, leading her towards the Hummer.

"Willingly, especially if where you're leading me to has coffee," she quipped.

"I think that can be arranged," he said, smiling.

As they drove through Miami, Horatio watched Madigan out of the corner of his eye. She looked like she was thinking hard.

"Madigan, are you okay?" he asked.

She sighed heavily. "I guess so. I was just… I was so angry at Gary that… that I wonder if it really was Gary I was angry at."

"Elliot, maybe?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I just know that I've been angry before but… never… never quite like that. I'm not even sure where the anger came from."

"Well, I have learned that we as human beings tend to be funny creatures," he said. "In reacting to a tragedy, we are not predictable. Why we feel such emotions as anger, sadness, guilt, even, we don't know. There is no way to predict how we will react during the situation or even after the situation is over. We have a pretty good _idea_ but no way to really predict. The only good thing is that once we identify what's going on, then, and only then, can we really figure out what to do."

"Dreams are funny things too," she said quietly, remembering the figments of her dream.

"They are indeed," he said, wondering where she was going with this but sensed that it was important.

She was quiet for a moment and then she spoke. "I spoke to Speed a few nights ago, the night of that gab-session with Alexx and Calleigh. I remember being so angry at Elliot and getting pretty drunk, which is a first for me." Horatio smiled. "And I remember talking to Speed. He said I had to let go of my anger, let go of Elliot, or I wouldn't be able to move on."

"And he was right."

"I know. It just hasn't been easy," she admitted.

"And it's not going to be easy," he said. "Believe me, I know. You take it one day at a time and try to channel that rage in to something positive. It's not easy but I've found that having friends and family helps."

"You sound like a veteran," she quipped.

He smiled tightly and said, "I've had my fair share of situations I'd rather forget about and a lot of rage as a result. My friends and family have helped me channel my anger towards something positive."

"Probably why you do your job so well," she said. "Alexx says when you get angry you get more determined."

"I do. It's not always easy but you can do it. Don't hesitate to turn to your family and friends, Madigan; that's what they're there for, especially your brother. He cares, you know."

"Yeah, I know. God knows I haven't been exactly easy on his nerves lately. I just didn't know how to tell him what was going through me, how confused and mixed up I felt. He already had so much on his plate without having to worry about his baby sister being very mixed up because her co-worker decided to put a bullet in to his brain," she confessed.

He smiled and said, "That, Madigan, that is what family is for. We worry, we fuss, and we look out for each other, and we, we wouldn't have it any other way."


	39. Chapter 39

_A/N: this is an IM conversation between Madigan and Flack. It is also the second to last chapter in this story. I'm hoping to have Chapter 40 up in the near future, probably over the next couple of days. In the mean time, thank you all kindly for your patience and your nice reviews. Also, all emoticon symbols in here can be found with Yahoo! messenger._

**Chapter 39**

**Don: **hey Maddy-girl, how are ya? Heard you got into a fight and won.

**Maddy:** I'm fine and who told you that? Wait… let me guess… Horatio Caine?

**Don:** we've been keeping in touch /:)

**Maddy:** figures.

**Don:** Horatio says there was a lot of anger involved in that fight, and he figures it was mostly towards Elliot. How do you feel now?

**Maddy:** truth?

**Don:** you'd better :-w

**Maddy:** I feel tired, like I spent so much energy being mad at him and I didn't realize it and now that I've had a chance to vent my anger at him, so to speak, I'm not mad any more, just tired. Does that make any sense:-/

**Don:** it does, don't worry. :D

**Maddy:** thanks :D

**Don:** yw. What are you going to do now?

**Maddy: **come home soon. I've paid my visit to Speed and the work at the gym is just about done. I got your message about the Dawsons. I'm glad that's over #:-S

**Don:** you and me both. The judge basically threw the book at 'em. I don't think you'll have any more trouble with them. Maddy, are you sure you're going to be okay?

**Maddy:** what do you want me to say, Don? That I'm not having nightmares any more? Because I still am. I've been told, however, that those nightmares will fade in time as I learn to accept what happened and that was something I wasn't doing before, which was accepting what had happened.

**Don:** and have you?

**Maddy:** I'm trying to. It's not easy, but I'm trying to.

**Don:** that's good, Maddy, that's really good. And you're right, it's not easy but it will get easier and this is coming from someone who's been there, done that. Believe me when I say I have my fair share of regrets and I know Mac and Danny do to. Danny ever tell you about Detective Rodney Minhas?

**Maddy:** No.

Don: Minhas was an undercover cop that got killed during a crazy shoot-out and for a while it looked like Danny had killed him. They were able to prove that he hadn't but for a long while Danny was blaming himself, especially in regards to the incidents that followed with IAB. It cost him the promotion grid and he lost Mac's respect for a while. He really blamed himself for a fair bit there, until he was able to earn Mac's respect again. I did what I could to help him but he had to sort it out for himself.

**Maddy:** did he?

**Don:** eventually and he eventually got Mac's respect back. As you can tell, he's doing okay.

**Maddy:** that's good. How's everyone doing?

**Don: **we're all good, just missing your pretty face. Danny's still chasing after Lindsey, word is Mac is seeing someone but isn't saying who X( damn him.

**Maddy:** :)) well, Mac has always struck me as a man of mystery. I'm sure he has his reasons for not saying who the new love of his life is.

**Don:** doesn't mean I've got to like it.

**Maddy:** of course not. Want me to rag him a bit when I get back?

**Don:** you can try but I'm not sure if you'll get any further than we have and God knows we've been trying.

**Maddy:** :)) I'll do my best. Oh, and just in case, I don't get the chance, I'm sorry I was so damn difficult in regards to Elliot.

**Don:** don't worry about it, kiddo. Shit happens and you got dumped on royally. Just do me a favor next time, if there ever is a misfortune to be a next time?

**Maddy:** okay.

**Don:** don't shut me out. We're family and we need to look out for each other. If I can help you, I will but I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.

**Maddy:** no promises but I'll try. Kinda used to keeping things to myself.

**Don:** I know but no more of that, okay? btw, how's your hangover?

**Maddy:** #-o glad it's over?

**Don:** ))

**Maddy:** I am never, ever, ever doing that again. That was not fun.

**Don:** well, no, it wouldn't be. Shouldn't have gotten drunk in the first place -X :D

**Maddy:** hey! That wasn't my fault! Alexx and Calleigh kept filling up my damn wine glass:P

**Don:** you could have always said No.

**Maddy:** right, and waste a good bottle of wine? Besides, I kinda get the feeling they were up to something.

**Don:** yeah, they were. They were trying to get you drunk enough to start talking, from what I understand. Seems it worked.

**Maddy:** oh, it did, except for the funny dream I had. That was one weird dream. Speed, a horse, storms, getting tied up, good grief #-o I swear I am never getting that close to a bottle of wine again.

**Don:** at least until the next time we decide to have fun :D

**Maddy:** :P

**Don:** ))

**Maddy:** you keep that up, buster, and you're not getting your present from me when I get back -X

**Don:** right, like I'm really worried about that :))

**Maddy:** what, I can't even scare you or threaten you any more?

**Don:** Maddy, I'm a big, tough cop. I don't scare easily.

**Maddy:** says the cop who let out a girly scream when a fake rubber spider came down in front of him in a darkened apartment.

**Don:** we don't talk about that. :-$

**Maddy:** oh really? I wonder, does Danny know? 8-

**Don:** play nice, little sister. -X

**Maddy:** since when?

**Don:** good point. Of course, I could always find that rubber snake you hate so much…. :D

**Maddy:** you wouldn't -X

**Don:** you sure about that:D

**Maddy:** no :))


	40. Chapter 40

_A/N: this is the final chapter in this series. Thanks kindly to all my readers and reviewers. I'm not sure if Madigan will be back or not as it largely depends on my imagination, lol. However, due to my focus needing to be on my other uncompleted stories, I am finishing this one off for the time being. Once again, thanks for reading._

**Chapter 40**

"Donny!" Madigan shrieked happily when she saw her brother waiting for her at the passenger disembarkment area.

Flack lifted his baby sister up off the ground and hugged her tightly before setting her down. "Welcome back, kiddo," he said, grinning at her. She had a really nice tan and the dark circles that had been under her eyes before weren't quite so noticeable.

He took off her hat to ruffle her hair, which he knew she hated, and froze when he saw the newest addition to her hair. Bright pink and blue streaks ran through her hair and when he tugged on one, he realized they weren't hair extensions; they were real and they were dyed.

"Like the look," he said, deciding he did indeed like her new look.

"Impulse thing," she admitted. "Was out with Alexx's kids and they saw this lady with what they thought was really cool hair. So we stopped by this place that did 'em and they chose the colors."

"Suits you."

"Thanks."

"Feel like swinging by the lab on the way home? The gang wants to see you and make sure you're okay."

She shrugged and said, "Sure."

At the NYPD Crime Lab Madigan found herself being embraced by Stella and Mac and fussed over by Sheldon. Lindsey thought Madigan's new look was cool.

"Where's Danny?" Madigan asked, not seeing her nemesis.

Danny was, in fact, attempting to sneak up on Madigan. Suddenly, he lunged out from his hiding spot and grabbed her.

The last thing he expected was for the lights to explode in hiss head, his world spin, and find himself on the floor, wondering what the hell had just happened. He looked up and saw Madigan grinning down at him, one of his arms still firmly gripped by hers.

"That was a well-executed _harai goshi_ throw, Maddy," Mac said easily, grinning at her.

"A what?" Danny asked, confused as Madigan helped him up off the floor.

"Sweeping Hip Throw," Mac translated. "It's a Judo move."

"And I made a few friends in Miami who taught me a few Judo moves to add to my collection of moves," Madigan said, still grinning.

"What, like you're not dangerous enough already?" Danny quipped, earning him a punch in the shoulder from Madigan.

Madigan was given two more days to rest from jet lag before she returned to work. She and her brother did a lot of talking during those two days, as well as adjusting to the fact that she was back. Flack came away from those talks firmly convinced that his sister would be okay. Elliot's death and the subsequent events, they had aged Madigan but she would be okay.

When Madigan came in to work the next day, she was nervous about seeing Dale again. Yeah, sure, he'd accepted her apology and all that but that had been three weeks ago. He'd been pretty chatty in his e-mails and all that but what was said in e-mails didn't necessarily guarantee that it was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

When she entered the locker room, there was no sign of him. Deciding just to act as if everything was normal, she started getting ready for her shift and changing in to her gear. She was pushing her hair back in to it's customary band when she dropped her brush. She was bending over to retrieve it when she heard a familiar male voice speak.

"Nice rear, Maddy, but I'm still going to kick it," came Dale's drawling voice.

Madigan snapped straight up and spun around. There was Dale, leaning against the locker doors, a grin on his face.

"You have five minutes to get to the floor 'cause I'm gonna whup your ass all around the room," he said.

"Pfft, you wish," she shot back, grinning. "I've learned a few things since I've been away, buster. The only ass-kicking that's going to happen is yours."

"Prove it, sissy girl," Dale shot back, still grinning.

"Fine. Give me two minutes and I'll race you to the mat. Whoever wins is buying dinner after our shifts are over, deal?"

"Deal. Two minutes, max. Then I'm comin' for ya." He turned to walk away but stopped for a moment and said, more seriously, "I'm glad you're back, Maddy. I've missed you."

She smiled warmly and said, "Thanks. It's good to be back."

And, Maddy realized, it was good to be back.


End file.
